Death Mark
by Stormin Mormon
Summary: Post Turncoat. Whenever anyone wants to kill Harry, it's usually because he's onto something or he's going to be on to something. But what if this time, it's just so he's gone for good? Or is that what they want him to think?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first Dresden Files story, so don't be too harsh. I know I'm not that good at writing mystery yet.

Dresden Files: Death Mark

Chapter 1

I have to admit, Molly's shield was getting better. Perhaps it was some endearment for Morgan, who had given his life freely to stop Peabody, who had told me I was too soft on my apprentice. He had told me that she would learn better if she was trained harder; obviously Morgan had never met Charity. But I was doing what he had noted, and was tossing baseballs at her instead.

Of course, we were also out of snow at the moment.

One baseball barely managed past her shield and grazed her arm. She rubbed it and gave me a dark look. Her shield wasn't perfect so far. But seeing as how she was raised by Michael and Charity, I was pretty confident that she would survive. Besides, I doubt she would complain to her mother, who would take pity on her. After all, Charity was a lot tougher than I had expected when I first met her. And she had been tough then. Molly would be all right.

Gleefully Mouse ran after the balls and began racing to bring them back to me. Molly beat him to some, who tossed them back to me a bit harder than usual. I caught them easily. Mouse still got plenty of balls himself, and I ignored the drool on them. He didn't much of a chance to get out. With the aftershock of dealing with the entire Morgan and Peabody incident, I had taken a few weeks before considering myself on full duty again. Molly's training had returned to its fullest intensity. She hadn't gone into anyone else's mind again, either.

"You ready to try again?" I asked. "Or think you've had enough for one day?" Molly frowned ever so slightly. She'd learned that the latter option involved having wind shot at her, not baseballs. She now always chose the first option. I winded up to throw and tossed it straight at her stomach. Mouse watched the ball zip across the park. Molly was already falling down before the ball reached her.

Molly plus falling minus ball equals bad. Instinctively, and perhaps stupidly, I checked the magical currents of Chicago to see what caused my sensitive apprentice to collapse randomly. I immediately stopped out of some unconscious fear. I couldn't exactly name what had just entered Chicago, but it seemed familiar. Familiar, and powerful. If I had to rate this on a scale of one to ten, I would be a three who just caught a glimpse of a fourteen. Something massive had just entered through the Nevernever.

"Molly?" I asked, turning back to my apprentice, who was curled into a ball. She was gripping her head. Molly was more sensitive to magic than I was which is why she probably would never be a fighter like I was. Her mother didn't see that as a bad thing, and I guess I agreed. Molly didn't need to do what I did. But now wasn't the time to learn about the fetal position. "Come on, grasshopper; we need to get back. Mouse, get to the car."

While the Blue Beetle object to Mouse's entrance, I helped my apprentice to her feet and began to walk her to the car when the power I had been aware of vanished, and Molly warily helped herself without issue. "Harry, what just happened?" Molly asked. I wasn't sure, but got in the Beetle and turned on the engine. I knew somebody who might be able to tell me, but the question was whether Bob would have felt it in the basement. I doubted he hadn't.

*****

"Wake up, Bob," I said, entering the lab. Molly was upstairs, petting Mouse. As a rule she still didn't know about Bob's existence, who would without end make innuendos once he was allowed to 'meet' her. Molly was under the impression that I was confronting an oracle. In a way, I was. Bob probably knew as much and had just as much power. I had never realized how much until the events with Kemmler's disciples. Man, I had too many adventures, and I was always the Rebellion in each of them."

Bob's eyes twinkled to life, and they were uneasy. His teeth were chattering. "Harry, I think we should move," he said. I could tell that he had felt the power. Anything that had Bob on edge that uneasily was usually not good. Beatable, eventually, but only with sucker punches and with lots of my ass getting kicked in the beginning. That whole Rebellion thing again. My enemies needed much more obvious exhaust ports.

"What are we dealing with here, Bob?" I asked. Bob didn't answer for a moment. "Bob, I want to know."

"I'm not exactly sure," Bob admitted. "But it seems like an Outsider had briefly entered Chicago." That was definitely not good. First, it was against the Laws of Magic, and that meant I was going to have to find some punk sorcerer who was either dead seeing what he could do, or I had a warlock in my territory. That meant hell and paperwork. Let's start with hell.

Molly called through the locked lab door. "Harry? There's someone at the door," she said.

"Answer it," I told her. The wards would protect her if it was something threatening. I turned back to Bob. Outsiders were serious, nasty, terrifying business. "Is it an Outsider or not? If it is, then there's either running around Chicago or there's a warlock around there." I was expecting the phone to ring any moment to inform me that I had Warder duties. Dresden Outsider Services, please hold.

"It was an Outsider, I'm sure now," Bob said after a moment. "But I've never felt Outsider power worked in that way, or in such power, either. I don't know any that are that strong, but it's not like we know much in the first place. It could be vamps, Harry." That was sore. Not only was Chicago supposed to be vampire-free, but we were supposed to be in a cease-fire. The Outsiders had been an ally of the Red Court during the recent war, and if the Red Court was planning a preemptive strike, then calling Outsiders meant they were going to hit heavy.

I filed this all away in my head. "So do you have any idea of what kind of power we're dealing with, here?" I asked.

"You just felt it, Harry. You tell me."

"Specifics, Bob."

"There isn't that much on Outsiders in the first place! Don't you get it? Someone with more juice that I know had to have summoned it! And if you really want specifics, I would have to say that this thing is like a lord among peasants!" Bob was panicky, and now I was. Bob rarely, rarely snapped. And so it made sense that if he was panicky about this, I felt that good old paranoia creeping up.

"What do you mean lord among peasants?" I asked slowly.

"The Outsiders, Walkers, whatever, they have rankings among themselves. This one, for however briefly it was here, makes some of the few I know look like you to Nicodemus." I gulped. Last I knew, Nicodemus could be dead, but I had gotten him with my sucker punch, too. In a fair fight, he could beat me with both hands behind his back and Anduriel, his fallen angel, blinded. And if this made other Outsiders look like that comparison…

"Bob, exactly what could this guy to somebody?" I asked. "Who might come close to being in its division?" I knew I would be outclassed, but I had a theory as to why it had been summoned.

"Let's see, someone who might come close to taking him on…you ever guessed how much power Cowl might have had if he had succeeded? It probably would have been stronger than this guy." I gulped again. The Rebellion was turning out to be against ten Death Stars. "Or if the Summer Lady had succeeded in transferring her power to Winter? That would be a serious contender for it, too. Just put it up there above He Who Walks Behind." That blew me away. This guy was a serious heavy hitter. If it turned out to be deadly, then I was going to have issues with it. He Who Walks Behind was frightening enough.

"You know, while I'm sitting here writing my will," Bob interrupted my thoughts, "That babe still has the door open."

"Shut your mouth and try to figure which Outsider it is," I told him. Bob complained about that one as I headed out of the lab. I opened the door, ready to deal with whatever Molly was doing. It might be that Vince PI; Molly had said that she had a date with him after she had mercilessly used her wiles on him. Poor kid would probably never recover.

It wasn't him at the door though. The sight that greeted me was both new and suspicious. What made it so new was Molly's reaction to the young man standing at the door. She was, first off, stammering endlessly, trying to say what sounded like, "Yes." She was failing. Her cheeks were a deep pink blush, and I could have sworn that in the common intervals where her mouth failed her and hung open, she was drooling. Her mind had been turned to mush. My apprentice, who had managed to keep her wits around my brother, was drooling at this young man.

That was what also made it suspicious. If a White Court vampire had been unable to get this reaction out of Molly, then who was this guy who could? I examined him more closely as I came to the door. He was young, a few inches under me. And he was good looking. I had always assumed that it was my brother Thomas who set the standard for looks, but seeing this guy I was certain he could turn people gay. His white hair was combed to one side in a way that was cool, and his physique was a tone of muscle that male supermodels dreamed of. Deep blue eyes were locked on Molly. His entire attention was turned to the drooling stuttering adolescent girl, but it was in confusion over her state. Did he seriously not know how good he looked? He had to be from Siberia.

Naturally, he was a suspicious character for being so good-looking. Only a few types of beings I'd ever met looked so good, and most of them you wouldn't trust with a penny. Or your life for that matter. I caught his attention as I reached the door. His smile threw me off guard; it was pleasing and honest. His warning meter went up. How anyone could be that honestly nice was beyond me; maybe I'd fought one too many bad guys.

"Good day, sir," he said to me in a pleasant voice, offering me his hand. I noticed my apprentice's drool increased as he spoke. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, but are you Harry Dresden? She couldn't seem to answer." There was no amusement in his voice; the kid was blatantly naïve. He must have been raised around equally stunning people, or he was dumb. Or maybe he didn't care.

"I am," I answered, taking care not to use my name in front of him. Things that good-looking were usually more powerful than I was. Molly had shut her jaw to wipe away a trail of drool. Her eyes never left him. Yep; he had to be powerful. There was a nagging in the back of my head, and I hoped he didn't turn hostile. "What do you want?"

"Well, I merely wanted to meet you at first," he explained. "I have heard a lot about you." I had to admit that a little bit of pride entered my brain-process. Yeah, I have done some heavy hitting, mostly with luck. But he didn't know that. "But I also realized that you could help me."

"How?" I asked. I gave Molly a nudge with my elbow to wake her to the fact she was about to drool again.

"I don't understand the alignment and balance of power between the factions of the Unseelie Accords, and I believe you might be able to explain to me. I'm new, you see," he said. Something didn't fit, and the nagging increased. There was no way he could be human, and the chance an inhuman didn't know what was what in the supernatural world was zero.

"Sure, come in," I said. I prepared to disable my wards so that he could enter, just in case something would hit him, but before I could he walked through, and I had the impression that all of my powerful wards were walked through like paper. All of my alarms went off. Molly even knew what had happened, evidenced by a slightly suspicious look in her eye. She didn't take her eyes off him, though.

"Could you wait here a sec? I need to check something. Molly will keep you company," I said. He nodded politely, and Molly's face beamed. I left, half wondering if she would even be able to speak, half wondering what the hell was in my apartment. I dashed into the lab.

"Bob, you have my permission to leave your skull only to enter Mister," I said. Bob didn't leave just yet. He knew something was up. "I want you to come up and see who I just invited in and whether I should be dead."

"You didn't just invite that skinwalker, did you?" he asked before he drifted out of his skull into Mister. The large Manx-cat hopped up out of the lab with me. Molly's ability had improved; she had managed to ask him to sit down and was sitting across from him. He was in the middle of asking her a question.

"So what is your name?" he was asking. He turned his gaze towards us as I came up. Immediately Bob aka Mister screeched. I immediately had defenses up, and Molly in surprise veiled herself. My guest stood up in surprise and looked around defensively, as though there was something else that was making Bob run in fear. He obviously didn't see himself as a threat.

"Molly, go into the kitchen," I ordered, ready to blast him if he so much as twitched. His eyes focused as he realized my attention was on him, and his posture straightened. He had some vague idea that I was wary of him, and looked almost apprehensive of what I might do. Once I was certain Molly was away, I flicked my eyes down at Mister. Mouse ran into the room, heaving heard the commotion. He kept his eyes on the young man, who in turn became interested in Mouse. "Bob, what's up?" I asked him.

Bob floated out of Mister and headed straight back for the lab, calling back over his shoulder, "That is the Outsider!"

Damn. I had let a demon of the deadliest sort, an Outsider of the Nevernever, into my house. And this one made others look weak. I was already being cast as the underdog, and something in the back of my head told me that even if I got the first hit, I wouldn't be landing the last.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My luck meter must have been building up from the last few weeks, because the Outsider's eyes relaxed, as though he was afraid of me. "Oh, is that what all the commotion is about?" he asked. He sounded sincerely surprised. I didn't relax my guard, and was thankful I had my blasting rod up my sleeve. "I apologize for the disturbance, but I didn't know my heritage would cause such trouble. Perhaps it would help if I explained."

I was slightly aware that Molly was watching from the kitchen. She had dropped her veil. She was not a good character judge at the moment; she still gaped. I glanced at Mouse. The dog that could be a tank was wagging his tail. That was good enough for me. I gestured for him to do so and sat down. He did so as well.

"Allow me to being by introducing myself. My Outsider name is Shadow Bringer Of Chaos. My 'normal' name, if you will excuse the sloppy description, is Lance Gareth. There is a reason for having two names," he explained. My mind was still dealing with the fact he was named Bringer Of Chaos for a reason. "I am not truly an Outsider, or not as you would see it. For as long as I have remembered, I have lived with my father somewhere in the Nevernever. But I always wished to see the birth lands of my mother."

What he was saying clicked a large piece in my mind, and Bob from down in the lab was likely storing all of this in his mind. This young man was suggesting the impossible. "Are you saying you're a scion? An Outsider scion?" I asked. I briefly wondered when Molly had joined me on the couch, arms around her legs.

"Indeed I am," he said. "My mother was human. She died giving birth to me twenty-years ago." That would explain why Bob didn't know his name, only what he was. He was new, compared to most Outsiders I'd heard of. But he was scion. That was like saying he was Titannia; it just didn't sound possible. I noticed Molly was back in full fledged ogle-the-gorgeous-non-human-like-a-giddy-school-girl-mode, having heard he was friendly for now and near her age.

"And if what you're saying is true, you were raised in the Nevernever and just now decided to come visit here. How did you bring yourself?" I asked. Even if he was only half Outsider, he shouldn't have been able to come without being summoned. I remembered the surge of power, and abruptly realized what was strange; I couldn't feel it at the moment. It was like he had switched it off.

"I am not bound since I am partly human," he admitted. "So I decided that I would visit. Although, I won't be going back now. The others didn't want me to leave, and I left with a few blows. It may be a few centuries before I return." He sounded as though it was nothing. I'd be lucky to reach that age the way I went. "But I wanted to come, and I have heard a lot about you."

"What?" I asked.

"I heard you fought with the Order of the Blackened Denarius a few times," Shadow Bringer Of Chaos said. "You have dealt with the Faerie Courts, fought back He Who Walks Behind and even fought a skinwalker." He looked excited, like a kid learning about something for the first time. "Do they really change into whatever they wish?"

"Yeah," I replied. The skinwalker wasn't my favorite memory.

"I wish I could do that."

Injun Joe could teach him about that. I had a question of my own. "Not that you don't look great," I began, Molly nodding agreement, "but don't Outsiders look…different?"

"Yes," he agreed. "I do look more like my kin when I began using lots of power, but most of the time I look like this. Is it bad?" Molly shook her head no and spoke aloud before I had fully registered the comment. I was going to have to do something about this. "Mr. Dresden, if it is not too much to ask, could you show me to an 'occult' place? I would like to meet more of the supernatural world. My experience does not go beyond the Outsiders and rumors I have heard."

I could always take him to McAnally's. I would need the beer to calm my nerves from having a polite chat with a being that had probably enough power to challenge one of the Faerie Queens. The Archive wasn't this strange to talk to. And he could see some of the occult there. Hell, I was going to have explain this to the council, and I could already see what they would think: Power. Whoever befriended this guy would have a major ally. And if the war started up again…

"I know where you could go," I told him. I stood up, and he followed suit. "We're going for a ride." I grabbed my duster and my staff, just to reassure myself. I wasn't sure if this was the best idea, but I didn't want a hostile super-powered being. "Let's go, grasshopper." She jumped suddenly, broken from her trance. This wasn't normal Molly; Shadow Bringer Of Chaos, or Lance Gareth, was exerting too much control on her without realizing it. How good-looking could the guy be? "By the way," I said, "This is my apprentice, Molly Carpenter."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, miss," he said politely. Molly felt altogether proud he spoke to her, and her former stuttering vanished as she answered back. We left my apartment, Mouse staying behind. He seemed to understand that the Beetle couldn't handle all of them plus him. It didn't mean he spared me a sad look. He was getting too good at playing the martyr; it wasn't fair. News flash, Dresden; life is never fair. This business with Shadow Bringer Of Chaos wouldn't end well.

The Blue Beetle dutifully carried us to McAnally's pub, and I was thankful that it didn't die on me. We left the car, Molly still giddily asking Shadow Bringer Of Chaos about how he'd gotten the name Lance Gareth. It apparently was what his mother had wanted his name to be. Naturally, since his mother had died in childbirth, it was practically nonexistent to the Outsiders. I could see her knees buckle when he said, "But since I am here, would be too much trouble if you called me Lance, Molly?" I thought she was going to start singing 'Say My Name' to him.

McAnally's pub interested him. He was immediately aware of the purpose of the pillars, and seemed genuinely impressed that something so simple could dissipate magic. I had Mac bring out three beers: one for him and two for me. Molly was too young to drink, and I think Charity might kill me if she was legal, anyway. Shadow, or Lance, was looking all around when Mac brought us our drinks. He watched intently as I paid Mac my tab. He remarked that he had studied human economy a little. The scion enjoyed the warm beer; I wondered if he was immune to intoxication or not.

While he was asking Mac about the pub, I took the opportunity to take Molly aside. I made certain she was facing away from him. "You need to control yourself, grasshopper," I warned her.

"I am in control," she pouted, control wavering.

"You were drooling," I noted. Her resolve faded a little. "You. Drooling. I could have watered a lawn. He's unknowingly exerting some sort of influence, like vampires."

"Harry, I've been inside someone's head, and I would know if it was doing that to me. Why do you think your brother never bothered me so much?" she asked. I had never thought about it. As dark as going into someone's mind was, she probably knew how to counter it.

"So why are you constantly fantasizing?" I asked.

"I am not fantasizing."

"Drool on the way," I pointed at the corner of her cheek. She tried to casually brush it aside, but the movement was obvious. She pouted a second. "Why are you staring so much if he's not controlling you somehow?"

"It's nothing to do with any sort of tapping into my head," Molly assured. Then her resolve completely broke down. "He's just _so_ gorgeous."

"No way someone can look that good," I argued, slightly surprised by how much feeling she put into the words.

"He is," she said dreamily. "He's like a male Aphrodite." Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It was said that one look of her would make men fall in love with her. I glanced around the bar; every female patron had their eyes on Lance, either discreetly or bluntly. I had little doubt what was in some of their minds. We had to leave before he was introduced to what would probably be his first time. I felt slightly jealous; why did the super-powerful beings have to have all the looks as well?

We left with eyes watching us and Molly next to him. I decided we would be discreetly dropping Molly at home while I got to talk to an Outsider scion about the supernatural realm. My luck from earlier must have ran out, but the discreetly dropping off Molly didn't work.

I parked the Beetle and went to escort Molly to the door, in order to make sure she didn't delay as long as possible. Cue mistake number one; I should've just kicked her out of the door. Charity met us halfway to the door, half wondering why her daughter was home early from training. "Good afternoon, Mister Dresden," she said, eying her daughter. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing at all," I lied. Charity eyed the fantasizing Molly. It was then that Shadow Bringer Of Chaos stepped out of the Blue Beetle as well, perhaps seeing it as polite. As soon as her eyes set on him, her entire expression lightened, and she stared at him.

"Who is this young man you brought with you?" she asked nicely, and went to meet him. Molly went with her, wanting a reason to talk to him again. Lance was unaware of the havoc he was wreaking. I watching in disbelief as Charity—Charity, the sternest person I've ever met—smiled so warmly it was ridiculous. I was starting to believe Molly's explanation. It definitely wasn't fair.

"Hello, Harry," a quiet voice said behind me. I turned around to see Michael, looking a little bit better. He was subtly puffing out his chest, to get more air when he breathed. I went on a guilt trip for a moment.

"Hey Michael. How are you?" I asked.

"I've been fine, no trouble at all," he replied calmly. "That is, until now. Please do not tell me that this young man my wife and daughter are tripping over is not a new boyfriend."

"Worse; he's an Outsider scion," I said cheerfully. Michael stared at me calmly.

"I hope you're being sarcastic, Harry," he said. "I don't want Outsiders near my family. Outsiders are not very nice beings; they're demons."

"Yeah, well, this one is half-human. Serious," I explained. "And if it was up to me, I would have left before anyone saw him. His name is Shadow Bringer Of Chaos." Michael's gaze tightened. "Hold on; he's here to learn about humanity, not destroy it."

"Are you certain?" Michael asked. "Listen to his name."

"Hey, imagine how I was when the Terminator showed up to save Sarah Connor in T2. But trust me on this one. Even if he wasn't friendly and polite, I wouldn't go against him even if I held a Denarius."

Michael flinched slightly. He was proud I had managed to overcome the coin, but he didn't like mention of the Order. I suppose that was a bit hard for him to hear. But he needed to understand what type of power this scion had. "So he's powerful?" Michael asked.

"He would be a solid match for one of the Faerie Queens. Yeah, he's got power. And he's completely unaware of how deadly he could be. Or how impressionable he is to women."

Charity and Molly were bringing Lance to meet Michael right now. "Michael," Charity said, and I could tell that unlike her daughter, Lance was just a really gorgeous guy. Hopefully she wouldn't think he would go with Molly nicely. Neither Michael or I would enjoy any part Outsider hanging around her. He had been nice, so far. "This is Lance Gareth, or Shadow Bringer Of Chaos."

It just showed how unfairly pretty he was that Charity didn't care he was part Outsider. Maybe my paranoia didn't just let me see him as a good being. Especially when Michael's attitude brightened once he shook Lance's hand; Michael trusted him more than me now. And Michael was a good character judge. But my nerves were still alerting me.

I turned at just the last second. My bracelet formed a shield as talons crashed into it, in a failed attempt to grab me. The force knocked me onto my back. Immediately Michael had a bat in his hands, and Molly was veiling herself and her mother. I got back to my feet and swallowed my fear. Shadow Bringer Of Chaos watched in surprise and curiosity. My luck had definitely run out; why else would there be a gigantic falcon coming back to attack me. Of all my enemies, this one I could fear.

Meeting the first Outsider scion and dodging attacks with angry skinwalkers: all in a Dresden day.

It crashed into the ground, now in the shape of a coyote. "You die now, mortal," it howled. I had little doubt that it had suffered amnesia and was paying a social call.

"Can we shake on it?" I asked. My comment did nothing but amuse it; it knew I was screwed. Well, at least I was going to go out fighting. And I had to get it away from Michael and his family.

"When you are on the edge of death, I will skin your friends before you. And then I will kill you," it told him. Michael raised the bat higher. "You have no knowledge of the Old Ways to save you, and I will send you all to the eternities."

"Excuse me, Mister Dresden," Lance suddenly spoke. "I understand that it may be dishonorable to intercede, but I would like to fight it. It is proper to protect those who cannot defend themselves." I was irked at that one. "And I want to see what a real skinwalker can do."

Well, I wasn't about to deny a heavy hitter a chance to take out a foe I couldn't. All I needed was a safe distance and popcorn. "Have fun," I said. Lance was amused by the expression, and turned to face the skinwalker. It now had horns like a water buffalo.

"Foolish mortal," it taunted. "I will make your corpse dance by its own intestines. You cannot stop me."

Lance shrugged. "I think I can. You can't be that tough," he replied, irritating the skinwalker. I still couldn't feel anything but the barest hint of magic from him; was he going to show what his non-human form was? He didn't look any different, not even when he suddenly leaped high into the air and slugged the skinwalker hard enough to knock it down.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was probably the coolest punch I'd ever seen, and that was including the ones you see in movies with high special effect budgets. Remember the Superman comics, where he could punch a guy around the planet? Lance's punch was a hell of a lot cooler. The skinwalker's head crashed in the ground, cracking the street and making a nearby streetlight shudder. The skinwalker reacted quickly though, changing into a giant rattlesnake to slide off the impact and face Lance. The Outsider scion looked fascinated by the shape shift, and he was forced to react at the last second to dodge a bite from giant fangs.

I had to act. Throwing power around with these guys would be like adding a cup of cold water to a hot bath, but I wasn't about to stand around and let this guy take all the hits for me, either. These were my friends involved, too, and if it turned out that he got sucker punched, I wanted the skinwalker as weak as it could get. It struck at him again, and caught it by the fangs. For a moment, it looked like Lance was going to strike its head into the ground again, but it changed into a human form, and he was now being held onto instead. It tossed him into a streetlight, and he slowly got back to his feet.

Now was my chance. I summoned my will and outstretched my hand at the skinwalker, shouting, "Fuego!" A fireball flew from my open palm and hit the skinwalker in the shoulder. My spell probably did nothing but spin its shoulder, and it glowered as it turned to come after me. Lance leaped onto the skinwalker's back and began choking it. It morphed into a giant bear, and he realized his hands wouldn't fit around the neck anymore. It grabbed him off its shoulder and held him tight, presumably trying to squeeze him to death. Where was his magic; that massive force from earlier would be pretty nice against a Native American evil deity.

Then Michael was in-between the legs of the bear, and he had a fireplace poker in his hands. With relative ease he brought the poker down on one of the bear's feet, and it lifted it up into the air in pain. I focused quickly and shouted. "Forzare!" escaped my lips as wind hit the bear head on, knocking it off whatever balance it had left. It changed into a lion on all fours as it fell, and pinned Lance against the ground. Lance didn't look quite as normal as he had. His skin was darkening, and white-colored runes that covered his body were becoming evident against a now black skin.

He lifted the paw off him and faced the skinwalker. It roared at him and snapped at him. Rather than dodge or catch its teeth, the scion raised a hand to the oncoming attack and focused. An aura of power suddenly surrounded him as fire burst from his hand and knocked back the charging skinwalker before vanishing again. "All you can do is change?" he asked, and his voice sounded like an Alien, Nazgul, and Darth Vader mixed together: creepy. I wondered how he was doing it, because his mouth had vanished, and his pair of blue eyes had changed into three vertical pairs of triangular white eyes; there were no pupil or iris. They were just white.

The skinwalker howled at him and shot its electric bluish beam at him. Lance kept a hand raised, and I could see the shield that absorbed the skinwalker's attack and sent it back at it. It moved out of the way of the countered attack and changing into a giant falcon, taking to the air. Lance only glared at it, irritation now in his six eyes. His hair became white fire, and the white symbols and runes all across his black skin were clearly evident. His clothing was gone, replaced by black armor. Then the final manifestation of his Outsider form showed itself.

He could fly too.

Massive white wings, like an angel's, unfolded from his armor. The kid had a ridiculously large wingspan, and his wings flapped and carried him after the skinwalker. Shrieking it dove at him, and he caught it by the beak and tossed it down at the earth. The skinwalker changed into a turtle to absorb the hit, and when it looked back at the hovering scion, Hellfire enveloped the skinwalker. Whoa, hold the phone: the kid knew how to use Hellfire? I thought that had only been restricted to those who had it given to him. As if seeing the thing barbecued wasn't enough, Soulfire reached out from Lance's arms and began to tear the skinwalker apart piece by piece.

I couldn't help but stare and watch as the skinwalker shrieked and reeled in desperation to get away, but the huge amount of Soulfire around it refused to yield. It continued to pluck the Skinwalker into pieces until the shrieking faded into garbling before there was silence, and the only thing the Soulfire had was bits of ectoplasm. And in the middle of it all, from which the Soulfire extended, was Shadow Bringer Of Chaos. The kid had just ripped real skinwalker to shreds, and the way he stood in the air, wings flapping slowly, was awe-inspiring. Majestic, terrible, terrifying, glorious awe-inspiring. There was no doubt in my book; he would definitely win a most bad-ass looking heavy hitter contest, or at least rank in the top three.

The Outsider scion flew back down and landed on the ground. Wings still slightly out to either side, he walked towards us, and I felt like kneeling to avoid seeing the terrible, glorious power in his three pairs of eyes. If he were to attack us, I wouldn't be able to attack for how incredible his power would appear. But Lance didn't attack us, and he didn't stay as he was. Rather, he slowly reverted back to his drop-dead gorgeous human form, the power that I had sensed now vanishing within him again. But he wasn't keeping up appearances; using that much Soulfire had drained him.

In fact, he collapsed before reaching us.

Molly, despite having seen him as a full-blown demon of no return, ran out to help him to his feet. He got back up well enough, and continued towards us, supported slightly by a highly concerned Molly. He stopped when he reached me. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused, but would I be able to rest somewhere? That much Soulfire is not my forte." And then he promptly fell back down again, already passed out. Michael picked him up and carried him inside his house, followed by the rest of us. I had to give Michael credit. I was scared to touch him, let alone bring him inside. Just imagine what his reflexes might be to touching a wizard after a fight.

*****

"I'm impressed; using that much Soulfire is incredible," Michael said quietly. We were alone, watching him sleep on the couch. Molly was watching her siblings outside while Charity was attending to something else. "Most people wouldn't even be alive after using that much."

"So it doesn't surprise you that he's passed out when he's supposed to be super-powerful?" I asked.

"Harry, he is. Most beings can't use that much without dying, and he's sleeping it off. He probably won't be able to do it again for a long time, but if he can do that with Soulfire, he probably has a lot more power than just that and Hellfire."

"Another question: why did he just whip off both Soulfire and Hellfire?" I asked.

"Well, he's an Outsider," Michael explained, and there were several ways to take that. One, powerful Outsiders didn't need to be empowered to use them. Two, Michael didn't have a clue. I went with number one, because I didn't want to think that a former Fist of God wouldn't know. But the paranoia kept number two at hand. I watched him for another moment; he didn't look like a being that just plucked apart a skinwalker, but then nothing is ever as it appears.

"So you're not concerned?" I asked.

Michael shook his head. "I trust him," he said. And from right there my trust for Lance grew a little. Like I said, Michael is a great character judge. And I doubt Heaven just left him out in the cold after he gave up _Ammoraichius_. He had to have some inspired help still. Well, watching him sleep was boring, and I was certain now that Shadow Bringer Of Chaos wouldn't cause any trouble, especially when asleep. I went to see to my apprentice, who was defying all the odds. She was outback, the pitcher in a referee game. Funny how easily she got along with her siblings.

Lance slept for several hours until dinner was well over and Michael was discussing with his wife about whether or not he would be able to sleep the night. It was a one-sided conversation; Michael was explaining what would be necessary to let him stay, and Charity was going and fetching it explaining that it was no issue. By the look in her eyes, she didn't stare at him, but still had a ridiculously kind disposition towards him. That probably revolved around Molly _still_ ogling him. However, he woke shortly before I was going to leave him in Michael's hands. It was probably a good thing; Molly had been simply smiling about the fact he was going to be close, and her happiness visibly melted when Lance decided to come with me.

My beloved Beetle had taken a scorch mark from the fight between Lance and the skinwalker, but it still ran as though nothing had happened; the burn must not have damaged the engine. But by the time we got back to my apartment, it sputtered and died again. I would have to call Mike again, as we got out and Lance pushed it forward easily into its spot. The Blue Beetle died more than any comic book character I knew. We entered my apartment, and Mouse was overjoyed to see me. He gave Lance a complimentary greeting as well. Mister showed no care for either of us.

The phone rang when we entered the apartment. I left Lance, curiously examining a book, and answered it. The voice I heard on the other end was one I was relieved to hear; I needed the sound of someone who knew things. "Hey Hoss," Ebenezar greeted, voice reassuring me that maybe I wasn't over my head. Ebenezar McCoy was on the White council and was their Blackstaff, the dirty wizard assassin who had the right to break the Laws of Magic. He'd pulled an old Russian satellite down on a Red Court vampire once, and if anyone could give Lance trouble if things went south, it was him.

"Hey McCoy," I replied. "I need your help."

"Actually, I'm calling to inform you that black magic has been found in the outskirts of Chicago and moving closer to the center of the city. As a Warden, it's your job to investigate it."

Black magic; great. Just what I needed right now. As if having an Outsider scion nearby wasn't bad enough. But I had a few questions; Ebenezar didn't sound right. "Something wrong?" I asked.

"Would you like some help with this assignment?" he asked back. "There's a lot of it."

"A heavy hitter?"

"More like a bunch of spells that looks like a big setup."

Damn. Cue another sucker punch victory. I changed subject. "Why are you calling?"

"Luccio asked me."

That made sense; Luccio and I had been going out and having a great time—all up until we found out that the part of her that was attracted to me was from mind control. It hadn't been anything real serious, but it still wasn't an easy parting. I could see why she was avoiding me; I probably would've done the same. Remembering parting with Luccio brought my brother's parting to mind, and I shut that down for now. I needed more friends.

Fortunately, Ebenezar pulled me out of my hurt pondering. "So what did you need help for?"

I glanced at Lance, who was eye-to-eye with Mouse. "I think a found a new ally and being for the Council."

"Does this have to do with the power surge that was felt earlier? We thought you might have messed up Little Chicago."

How had they…never mind. "It is. Here with me in the apartment is an Outsider scion."

Ebenezar was silent a while. "Could you repeat that again, Hoss?"

"There's an Outsider scion in my apartment with me; his name is Shadow Bringer Of Chaos, or just Lance Gareth. Rather polite actually. Want to talk to him?" I motioned Lance over, and he obliged. I gave him the phone, told him which end was for listening and which was for speaking, and left to get something to eat. I could hear his polite introduction; even Ebenezar had to be surprised.

I made a sandwich while I waited to be handed the phone back. It struck me how unfair it was that he could switch off his power at any given moment, incurring no harm on any electrical systems nearby. Now, not only was he: good-looking, powerful, had women ogle after him, and smart, he also didn't have to worry about setting off someone's life support or making a generator supplying heat fail. It just wasn't fair. Here I was, constantly doing the right thing, yet nowhere near as powerful, while my love life consisted of a girl who was mind-controlled into liking me and I hadn't seen Susan since my first run-in with the Denarians. Couldn't I at least be able to use some sort of electrical stuff? It's not like I'm purposely living a low cost of living, although the Wardens weren't exactly low pay.

"Warden Dresden? Mister McCoy is asking to speak to you," Lance called. I bit off a chunk of my sandwich and chewed it as quickly as I could before taking the phone back from him. He eyes my sandwich, trying to figure out if it was food and why it was stacked the way it was. Did he eat? IF he did, I was going to introduce him to the unhealthiest food there was: the glorious cheeseburger.

"What do you think, 'Mister McCoy'?" I asked my former mentor.

Ebenezar might have made a small sound at what I called him. "Mouth never did get small, did it, Hoss? As for the scion, doubtless the Council would like to meet him. I will have to tell the Merlin about this," he explained.

"I thought so much," I replied. "But could you do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Ask the Merlin for Lance to delay a visit to the fort. I want to bring him myself."

"And you won't be bringing him until you're done with the black magic, naturally. What's the matter? Something wrong?"

"I just would like to be the one to bring him. He's…naïve."

"It's nice to see you caring about people, Hoss. It's always a good sign."

"That, and he's useful if I run into too much trouble."

"Knew you had an ulterior motive."

"He killed the skinwalker."

There was a long silence on the end of the phone, and then Ebenezar quietly asked me to repeat myself. Which I did. He was quiet for another long minute. "Wow."

"I know. Was freaky to watch. He tore it apart with Soulfire."

"Soulfire?"

"Yeah."

"Hell. Tell you what, I think the Merlin doesn't want to urge an Outsider scion too rushedly."

"Good line of thinking."

"See you later, Hoss."

"Bye, McCoy." I hung up the phone and glanced at Lance. He had not heard much of the conversation, too polite to eavesdrop and now engrossed with the characters in a Latin For Dummies book. Chances are he would have a better chance with it than me. So unfair.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lance, it turns out, did sleep. I found it sort of surprising in a way; I had never thought that anyone with enough power as he did would ever find that they had to sleep. I couldn't see Mab and Titannia falling asleep at some point, nor the Erlking or any other super powers I knew of. But then, Lance was still half-mortal, so I guess he didn't really count. Wonder what that meant for the Denarians, then. But Lance asleep meant that I could focus on this new invasion of black magic that was coming. So I left him sleeping on the couch, told Mister to bark if there was trouble, and headed down into the lab.

"Wake up, Bob," I told the skull as I shut the door. "I need your opinion on something." The orange lights in his skull flickered to life as performed my incantation to light the candles in my lab. Bob's eyes glanced nervously to the upstairs. The spirit was still unnerved by the presence of a superpower on my couch. I was fine, as long as the superpower didn't go crazy on me. I moved over to where I was going to need to be. "I need you to tell me if you think Little Chicago is ready to work again."

"Are you serious, Harry?" he asked. "After what happened last time, you want to go for another stroll?"

"Not going into it, Bob," I growled. "But for investigating a presence of black magic."

"Oh," Bob's eyes seemed to gain more light as he spoke. "So the council's sending you after some bad guys again, huh? Going to protect these guys, too? Or are you going to end up as the lucky winner from another increasingly climatic battle?"

"It's just some small time things, Bob," I argued back. "And I do not have increasingly climatic battles."

"Sure, just keep saying that," Bob said lazily, the sarcasm in his voice so heavy it would tip a scale. "I mean, going from taking a sorcerer down to dealing with the Denarians and a skinwalker couldn't be increasingly climatic in any sense of the word, what was I thinking? You know, neither would be dealing with the first Outsider scion in history."

"Shut up," I ordered, and his eyes seemed to twinkle, knowing he'd scored a point. The worst part was that I couldn't even threaten to take away his romance novels, because then he wouldn't help me, and I need Bob to tell me all sorts of things that I don't know. "So can I use Little Chicago or not?"

"Well, you've been pretty diligent in restoring it, and I don't see anything wrong with it from here. What exactly are you dealing with now?" he asked. I filled in Bob as I gathered my energy to use upon Little Chicago. It had been hell restoring it after last time, but now it looked like it had before, and Bob said it was all right. When I finished giving Bob the lowdown—which was small this time for once—I tested Little Chicago. Nothing happened that would be defined as bad, but nothing that would be defined as good happened, either. Then, small black pools indicating black magic sprung up.

"Damn," I swore. I knew exactly where the one pool of magic was, and tried to memorize the location of the other. It looked like it was near Wrigley Field. Bob had noticed where the first spot had been too.

"Hey Harry, I want to be wrong here, but was that…" he trailed off.

"Yeah," I answered. "It was. And this just got more complicated." As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. I ignored Bob's comments about climatic battles and headed upstairs, closing the lab behind me. Lance had been woken up by the noise and was sitting up, watching me with a confused face. "Stay put," I told him, and headed for the door. I wasn't surprised by who was there, considering what Little Chicago just said.

"Good evening, Mr. Dresden," Justine greeted, dressed in a business suit and wearing a smile to compliment.

"Good evening, Justine," I greeted back. She wasn't alone; there were three of the Raith Estate's elite guards with her. Justine also had a handgun of her own on her. "That bad?" I asked.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as I guessed her purpose in being here. "I take it you know?" she guessed.

"I just got called by the Council, and apparently some black magic is going down in Chicago. Also, one of my sources says that some was performed in your estates," I explained. "I don't know exactly what happened."

"We were hit by several wizards," Justine explained. "They struck us using black magic and killed a few of the smaller members of the Raith family before they left. When I left, we were still calculating how much damage had been done."

Wow. For anybody to walk in and pull off an attack on the White Court and also catch them by surprise was either really lucky, brave, smart, or simply crazy. Looks like the new warlocks were pretty dangerous if they could pull off a stunt like that. "And I guess you're making a call because I happen to be the Council representative, you want me to deal with this."

"We tried calling you earlier, but you weren't there," Justine explained.

I glanced back at Lance, who was sitting on the couch. He had a wary look in his eye, as though he knew that that there was danger coming to Chicago. How right he was. "I had business to take care of earlier. But it's taken care of, and I will be looking into this as soon as possible. I'll come over tomorrow to get a look around. You haven't done too much cleaning up, have you?" I asked. The last thing the Council needed was more trouble with the Vampire Courts.

"Not yet. The police got involved, and so things are under surveillance, although I doubt they'll catch anything. It was more that a policeman was a casualty," Justine explained. Well, that meant CPD was involved. Things were getting tangled. "As for what they took, we have thirteen servants missing."

"Servants, huh? You mean sex slaves?" I asked, needing clarification. Justine nodded. I whistled lowly. Thirteen was a powerful number when magic was involved. And 'servants' of the White Court didn't necessarily have lives once they began servitude to the court. Likely they were already being sacrificed for whatever purposes the warlocks had. I unconsciously made a fist; they didn't have much of a life left, but White Court servants were still people. "I doubt that they're in the best of shape already. I'll be there tomorrow at ten."

"We're glad you're involved; we understand that wizards who go against your Laws of Magic are not good friends of the Council. Consider yourself an employee of the White Court officially…"

"But unofficially, this is the Council taking care of its duties. Do I still get a paycheck?" I asked.

Justine only gave me a faint smile. "You can discuss that tomorrow with Lara. Good night, Harry."

"Oh, by the way," I called as they turned to go. "Bad wizards are called warlocks."

Maybe it was just for my sake, but Justine attempted to appear serious. "Thank you for the clarification."

"Anytime."

"Good night."

"See you at ten," I finished. They left, and a homeless man across the street stared at Justine lazily as they went. I ignored him when he fell over trying to finish his bottle and shut the door. I turned to face Lance, who was scratching Mouse's head. "Want to meet a vampire tomorrow?"

*****

Lance hadn't been about to turn down the situation. He was the only person I know, other than Susan, who was excited to meet vampires. My heart hoped he wouldn't be as bad off after the encounter. But then, a native of one of the darker parts of the Nevernever ought to be tougher than an immortal who dwells in the mortal realm. I hope so, anyway. Lara's entire purpose, as a succubus, was to tempt and seduce mortals. Lance was half-mortal, and while he made my apprentice drool, he wasn't trying. I had no clue how this would go.

So, to keep him from disaster, I tried explaining to him on the way in the taxi. He cut me off before I began, saying he knew of the Vampire Courts because they were better than mortals at entering the Nevernever. The taxi driver, I noticed, kept his eyes very focused on the road after our chat. I guess not all his customers talk about succubus vampires on their way to a wealthy estate. He dropped us off at the gate, and it wasn't hard to see where the damage had been done. A heavy, burnt hole had been made in one side of the gate, created by whatever had also burnt the stone and grass around it.

It was taped off and being investigated by detectives by SI, Chicago's anti-nightmare force. Ignoring their surprised—and yet not surprised—expressions at seeing me, I nodded to the gate guard, who let me through without as much as a word. Apparently this was much worse than just the front gate being blown to pieces. It was.

The vampires had cleaned up the members of their dead house, since their blood would never pass inspection, but everything else was evident. Marks of heavy fire magic littered the way up to the mansions, and outlines of corpses could be seen drawn on the grass, pavement, even up in a tree. These warlocks had spared no expense in unveiling themselves. It was like Ebenezar had said: a lot of small-time spells, but a bunch of them. What took my breath away were the charred holes in the buildings.

SI cops were everywhere, attempting to take stock of the damage. Seeing where the warlocks had left through another part of the gate, they had a lot to take stock of. There were several Raith guards standing around that were still alive, but not in the best of the shape. Ahead, Justine was talking to the authorities, flanked an available guard. The available guard had one arm in a sling and burns alongside his face. When Justine had said they didn't know the extent of the damage, they had meant it. I was shocked that such an attack could be carried out.

Murphy and Rawlins, who was head of SI, were talking to Justine. They both spotted me about the same time, dressed in my duster and with my staff and blasting rod in hand. Neither was completely surprised to see me there. Rawlins wasn't the one being spoke to at the moment, so he greeted me. "Dresden, I hadn't quite hired you yet," he said, attempting a smile. He was a good cop, but as long as he had been in SI he probably hadn't seen a wide-scale supernatural attack.

"You probably won't, either. I've already been hired," I answered back. Lance and I joined them in their conversation. "It's ten, Justine."

"Yes it is, Mr. Dresden," Justine answered with a smile fit for a secretary. "Miss Raith is waiting for you up ahead. A guard will come along shortly to escort you." Rawlins' face was stunned when he realized that the Raith family was my clientele, and Murphy snorted. She knew what they really were, and she'd probably fill Rawlins in on that part when it was safe. It wasn't everyday you wanted to drop the supernatural bomb on somebody, even the head of SI. But it should probably be done sooner rather than later.

Lance had been dead silent up to now, and I assumed that's why no one had paid him attention. But then he just had to say something. "How many people were involved in the attack?" he asked, interested in what had caused this. That was all it took for people to notice him. Justine stared at him a second before shaking her head. Rawlins' stare was more jealous, like mine had been; he recognized that beauty had single-handedly ruined us for him. But then Murphy, _Murphy_, smiled at him.

"Who is this, Harry?" she asked. There was something admiring in her voice that, well, I found myself envious of. I guessed it was just male envy that he got all the stares, but something about Murphy made it personable. I didn't like my friends being so distracted. Luckily, the guard arrived before we could get much further, and took Lance and me away after I gave them his name.

The guard led us, limping slightly with the medical boot on his foot, into the mansion. The battle scars here lessened, but occasionally I could see through the wall. He stood outside a door and opened it. I walked in and found Lara sitting in a chair, waiting patiently.

No matter how often I prepared myself, I could never get over that first shock of when I first saw Lara. She was wearing a business shirt and skirt, and both were trimmed to start making me imagine things. She was sitting at a table and held a cup of tea in her hands, as though it was the most regular thing. "Good morning, Mr. Dresden," Lara greeted me.

"Hello, Lara," I answered, keeping my hormones under control. Despite how beautiful Lara might be, I had recently seen a side of her that had had the exact opposite effect of her beauty; it made me want to curl into a hole and suck on my thumb in fear. But right now, she was going to be upset about her problem.

"You have seen the handiwork outside of the warlocks, then?" she asked.

"Yeah. Looks like you got hit hard, and you didn't see it coming," I told her. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly at that comment. The White Court preferred to stab someone in the back rather than tear them to pieces. To beat them in the intelligence and backstabbing game was an insult, and so was getting caught. Power meant little if you weren't subtle about it. "So other than thirteen missing people, what else would they have hit you for?"

"I was hoping, as a Warden of the White Council, and therefore a hunter of warlocks, you could tell me," Lara answered. "If you do not know, I am going to be very put out with you, wizard mine."

"To begin with, having a number of thirteen people could mean anything. If these warlocks sacrificed thirteen people, then that would give them a good amount of power to sling around." I didn't have to add that that much power would be bad. "Although, somebody has used black magic somewhere else, and I'll be going there once I'm done there."

"I was told you wanted…" Lara's voice faded away, and her eyes widened in surprise for a moment. I knew Lance was standing behind me, and so help me if he made her stare I was going to throw a temper tantrum. I glanced back at him; he was watching her curiously, like a new animal at the zoo. Lara's expression was much different.

"Who is this? What is he?" she asked, attention on Lance. There was nothing about her to suggest admiration—yet. She did have her slight smile painted on her lips.

"My name is Lance Gareth, Miss Lara Raith," he introduced politely. "If that is unfamiliar to you, you may know me as Shadow Bringer Of Chaos." Lara flinched as she recognized the only beings that had such odd names.

"An Outsider?" she asked.

"Scion, actually," I corrected her. Her eyebrows lifted in interest, and she moved closer to us. I'm sorry; I meant she moved closer to him. I was preparing my temper tantrum for when I was certain she wouldn't try to bed him.

The vampire's eyes glittered. "We shall have to talk again when there is more time, Shadow Bringer Of Chaos," she said.

"Certainly, Miss Raith," Lance agreed. It was amusing. While Lara was completely interested in Lance—which was upsetting me—he was only slightly interested in the prospect of a proper conversation. It was funny to see a succubus fall for her own trick. We left before anything more happened, and Lara had trouble returning to her tea. As we left the estate and called a taxi to head to Wrigley Field, I realized she had never gotten through her last question. Damn, he was too good; I was going to have to ask for notes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Vampires really are predators, aren't they?" Lance asked as the taxi dropped us off as the parking lot entrance. I paid him—and hoping that my next paycheck came soon—and began to walk to through the parking lot. I thought his question was a little on the dumb side. Biting back the sarcastic remark that he wouldn't understand, I asked him why he said that.

"She was watching me, wondering if I would be prey or competition," he explained. "I don't like being watched like prey." I stopped myself from asking what could make him prey. We cut an odd sight as we strolled through the lot; he caught women's looks and husband's glares, while I caught funny looks. I told myself it was the staff and blasting rod. I had left my duster at home, under Molly's eye. I needed Bob to help me make that cool sometime; I felt like I was going hunting in my underwear.

"Well, she's a vampire; they all look at you like that, regardless of what you are," I told him. "You just have to make them understand that you're too dangerous to be thought of as prey."

"So I should maim her?" he suggested. An angry and wrathful Lara from Demonreach sprung to mind. No, I did not want to have to be blamed for that again.

"No," I said, perhaps a little quickly; he turned to face me. "Just use body language." He didn't say anything, and we continued on to the stadium. It was a game day, there were loud cheers coming from the stadium as we grew closer. Lance's head was cocked in interest as we approached. A security guard passed us by, and he looked ready to radio me in. I muttered under my breath and sent out a touch of power. He jerked it away from his ear and looked at it in surprise. Harry, one; technology, zero.

When we got to the entrance, I stopped and looked around. There was a passageway that was abruptly locked off with yellow police tape and guarded by cops. Around us, people ignored the tunnel and police; they were here for a game. Nothing gets in the way of the baseball schedule. As I watched, Detective Greene showed up from a turn in the tunnel, discarding latex gloves; they were bloody. Damn. Greene noticed me shortly after I noticed him, and he came straight for me with a half snarl on his face. He hadn't forgotten last time I had met him.

"It seems whenever there's a murder, that you are nearby, Dresden," he said, sounding like old coals still lit. He crossed over the police tape and stopped feet from us.

"Seeing policemen work with corpses turns me on," I explained. He looked ready to hit me.

"I could have you arrested right now on suspect of involvement," he threatened, keeping his voice low. Like I said, we couldn't possibly disturb the baseball fans. Chicago would be slaughtered by the stadium people.

I decided to come honest, knowing it wouldn't do much anyway. "There's been black magic done around here. I'm here to investigate," I told him. Greene gave me a searching look, and flicked his eyes at Lance as well, who was watching the people go by.

"You mean you heard about a murder, and decided to attach fairy tales to it," Greene corrected.

I shrugged. "If that's how you pinch a loaf, fine by me," I drawled. I could almost see him begin to catch fire, and I had no doubt he thought I was talking about something other than bread. Myself, I wasn't quite sure yet. "Although I detected the black magic first."

"You are under arrest, Dresden, for insubordination to an officer!" Greene snapped. Uh oh, I'd pressed one too many buttons. I couldn't exactly stop warlocks from a cell, and knowing Greene, I could be in there a while.

Just as he reached for his handcuffs, Lance turned towards Greene and spoke. "That is enough, human," he said, and Greene froze in place. I blinked; I could feel power from Lance, and I stared at Greene in surprise. Lance continued. "You will not arrest Harry Dresden. You will allow us to enter the tunnel without trouble. You will forget this all when we are gone."

Like an obedient child, Greene put the handcuffs away, eyes still glowering at me. He went and talked to the two cops standing by the tape, and they all walked away. Wow. Lance had just pulled some glamour, similar to the White Court, and just like them Greene had thought he was acting under his own power. Out of curiosity, I closed my eyes and focused. When I opened them again, I looked with my Sight. I avoided looking at Lance, concerned by what would happen to my mind. Instead I looked at Greene.

There was a white and black collar around his neck, with a tube leading from the back of the collar to the back of Greene's head, going into his mind. From nearby the tube, an unending leash was attached to the collar, and I could see the leash run right by me to Lance, who was standing behind me. Hell's bells; the scion hadn't used glamour like the White Court. He had broken one of the Laws of Magic and used mind control on Greene, breaking the man completely to his will while only barely scratching his spiritual energy. That kind of power was deadly, and I felt my body go stiff.

"The spell will be gone in a few hours," I heard Lance say behind me, and I resisted the natural urge to turn to him. I had been rooted to the spot seeing him walk towards me in his true form; I didn't want to have my mind ravaged like when I had first seen the skinwalker. "He will be only slightly injured for a while. You should have time to do what you intend to do." It was eerie, I thought as I turned my Sight off, how polite his voice still was, as though he'd just dealt with a fly. Technically speaking, he had. We crossed the tape unchallenged and went into the tunnel.

The tunnel wasn't long, but it had several twists and turns. I could tell when we started getting closer, because the stench of black magic began to foul the air, and streaks of blood could be seen. The stench reached its peak as we turned the last corner. I took a nose full of blood and black magic as my eyes took in the site. Thirteen bodies were strewn in a circle of twisted limbs and grotesque angles. My jaw clenched tightly as I was able to make out the faces of young girls, all frozen in fear and anguish.

Power hummed as my knuckles on my staff turned white. My sense of chivalry flared as high as my anger as I looked at the bodies. They weren't the servants of the White Court, but regular girls who had been kidnapped and murdered in such a disgusting manner that I wanted to reach out to every inch of power I could—Black, Faerie, whatever—and blow everything away where I stood. Lance bore no emotion on his face as he crouched next to him and checked the air. He stood back up. "They were all thirteen years old," he said blankly. Anger at the age of the girls and at Lance's indifference fueled more power, and my vision seemed to go red.

Lance opened his mouth to speak, and in a flash his skin returned to its black color, white runes standing out, and his hand streaked from his side and grabbed something and slammed it into the wall. There were veiled warlocks still here. With his other hand, he created a barrier that blocked a blast of magic that would have hit me. I sensed where the magic had come from and pointed my staff. Hurling all the energy that was streaming in my anger, I screamed, "Forzare!"

Wind ripped from my staff so powerfully it was visible as a light blue, and even if the warlock had tried to run it would have done him no good. The force picked up the invisible figure and drove him into the wall so hard that a loud splattering sound could be heard as cement cracked. The pieces and splat of blood came into sight, strewn across the wall. I heard something behind me, and spun around pointing my blasting rod. Wrath still fueling my magic, I shouted, "Fuego!" and struck near the warlock with a blast of fire. His clothes caught on fire, and as he ran screaming, I ended him with another blast.

The final and third was still squirming in Lance's grip, against the wall. He had already dropped his veil, and was pleading. My anger was dimming from exhaustion just enough to realize he was apologizing to Lance for attacking him, who was staring blankly at the warlock. I walked over and pointed my blasting rod at his head. "Who are you, before I disintegrate your head," I threatened. This was one of the warlocks who had murdered children.

"I will not speak to you, Harry Dresden," the warlock spat. He turned back to Lance. "Forgive me, Shadow Bringer, I did not recognize you. Glory to your forever and ever."

Lance turned to me, and I could see confusion etched in his face. He had no idea who this was, or why he was worshipping him. Interestingly enough, Lance's eyes and mouth hadn't changed yet. He turned back to the warlock. "Why did you kill them?" Lance asked.

"For power," the warlock answered without hesitation. "We needed power to assault the White Court and take a more permanent power source." Permanent source meant they weren't going to kill the servants, but probably have them engage in sex to fuel their magic; the Shadowman had done that.

"Where?" Lance asked.

"Forgive me, Shadow Bringer; I was not told the location of my brethren. If I knew, I would lead you myself and we would laud your glory," the warlock praised. This guy was like a one-man cult. I still felt dull anger beneath the exhaustion.

Lance cocked his head. "You murdered them."

"Yes, Lord."

"Murdering is bad," Lance explained, and then he lifted him into the air by his throat, and the warlock got the impression he wasn't going to be thanked for his work. Power poured from the black and white Lance, and Hellfire sprung into being around the man. He screamed for a second before he was muted, gripping Lance's arm and flailing as he was burned alive. I couldn't help myself and tear my eyes away; I was too tired and shocked. The flailing eventually stopped, and the Hellfire continued to burn the body to the bare bones.

Lance let go of the charred skeleton, and it fell to the ground in a pile. "I believe we are done, right?" he asked politely, returning to his human form. I nodded faintly, and he took it as a yes and walked back up the passageway. I followed, half numb half tired.

In all of the excitement, I had forgotten. He may be only half of one, but Lance was still a demon, an Outsider.

*****

Ramirez was in the parking lot outside his car, and he helped keep me from kissing the ground. Lance stood by, looking around before settling into an awkward slouch. "Hey Harry," Carlos greeted.

"Hi," I mumbled back, stifling a yawn. "What're you doing here?"

"The Merlin ordered me over here after McCoy gave your report to the Senior Council. The Wardens are on battle-ready. I take it this is Shadow Bringer Of Chaos?" Carlos asked. Lance smiled, introduced himself like a gentleman, and shook Ramirez's hand. I couldn't shake the literal reminder of his demonic nature though. There was no way to tell how strong his Outsider side was to his human side. After all, he had spent his whole life among Outsiders.

"How'd you find me?" I asked.

"I went to your apartment," Ramirez answered. "Molly told me where you were going." Oh. Duh. "The Merlin wants me here to make sure that Lance is kept well after." In other words, the Merlin wasn't as oblivious as I was. Hell, if Lance got angry I'm certain that it would make the Death Star look nice. Ramirez continued. "So do you need anything?"

"Just heading back to the apartment. Someone's using White Court sex slaves to fuel magic."

"What kind?"

"Don't know, but they murdered children to get the slaves," I growled. Ramirez's face went cold, and I could sense a building of power around him. Annoyed him just as much. "See you at my place," I said.

Ramirez stopped me from hailing a cab. "I got my car right here, Harry," he noted, pointing his thumb behind him.

"Fine," I agreed. "When we get back, we wait for information, and then I go warlock hunting while you watch Lance. Molly's coming with me." He frowned, and I knew he had been hoping to spend time with my apprentice. The last thing I needed, other than Molly ogling Lance, was Ramirez trying to charm Molly. "Besides, this way we don't have worry about your inexperience when we find the White Court servants." Carlos glared at me, and for a moment I thought he wasn't going to give us a ride after all. He did though. Lance got passenger and I got the back; my legs complained.

"Whatever these warlocks are going to do is going to be amped, Harry, and not just because of the servants," Carlos said as he drove. "When Lance crossed over, he created a lot of turbulence. It's like Halloween right now." He looked ahead, and I looked to see what he was looking at. A man was standing in the street shooting fire at my hotel. I could spot others as well. They were after me, but I wasn't at home; Molly was.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Carlos sped up.

The warlock in the street didn't have enough time to do anything else but look at the accelerating car. He was hit, and the blow threw him back off his feet. He came back down several feet away, dead as the others were about to be. I threw open the door, fresh anger fueling my magic, and snarled, "Fuego!" Fire streaked from my blasting rod and hit one of the warlocks dead on. Carlos was out just as quickly and used earth magic to throw a guy up into the air. I ducked as one turned a revolver on me and hid behind a car.

I could hear Mouse's great woof inside. Molly would be fine if we could get these ones. I readied more power to hit another, but I was already tired; Carlos couldn't take on several warlocks by himself, either. The car door opened, and Lance stepped out of the car. His wings spread out behind him as he took on his full Outsider form. He raised a hand and icicles shot forward and killed a warlock. Unlike devout worshipper from the tunnel, they didn't beg for mercy; instead they turned all their power on him, shouting, "He has fulfilled his purpose! Destroy the Bringer!"

Apparently devout worshipper hadn't gotten the message yet.

All of their magic went straight for Lance, and he brushed it off with a barrier. Carlos seized the opportunity to shoot one with his revolver as he drew his sword. I wish I had brought my gun, and settled for hitting another with fire. Fire is the universal magic of choice for fighting. There was another bark from Mouse and what sounded like a scream. Lance stepped forward and pointed at the sky with his arms. I saw the drum of power, and was temporarily blinded as lightning struck him. When I could see again, he had a current flowing through him. Hell's bells.

"You have made me angry," he stated, and pointed at one warlock. Some of the lightning flowing through him flowed through a finger and lightning electrocuted him, making the body lift off the ground. Then he did it to two more warlocks before the electricity ran out.

"Harry!" Carlos shouted. He tossed me his revolver, and used earth magic to take out another warlock. Where were the police when you needed them? I summoned more power and used fire magic to take down another warlock. At this rate, I was willing to believe they were a cult, and checked for insignia or symbols. Lance just used Hellfire and incinerated both remaining warlocks. He headed straight for the door, wings tucking down to fit in the frame.

Ramirez and I ran after him. "So that's what he actually looks like?" he asked. I nodded. Lance was faster than either of us, and we passed by a dead body that had been smashed against the wall. My long legs allowed me to reach my apartment before Carlos, and he was a few second behind me. I saw Molly in the back, hiding beneath my duster for protection while Mouse stood protectively in front of her. Lance was not too far from me grappling with a demon. No biggie.

The demon threw Lance back and unleashed unseen force on him. Lance formed a bubble-like barrier to absorb the blast and dissipate it. It didn't work too well; my furniture was thrown around more. I summoned will and raised my hand to the demon. "Fuego!" I shouted, and fire rushed to meet it. The demon brushed it off like nothing, and turned its glare towards me. It had to have been summoned in my apartment to still have that much power.

Lance hit it in the jaw with a fist, and tried to wrap it up with his wings and arms. Of course; his power was weakened because he had run in without an invitation. Not even he was immune to the effects of a threshold. "Come in, Carlos!" I shouted behind my shoulder and ran for the lab hatch. I threw it open and headed down; above me there was more crashing. Bob shouted at me from his skull, asking what was wrong. I ignored him and reached for a sheath in the corner, containing _Ammoraichius_. I drew the sword and ran back upstairs.

The demon had thrown Lance aside and was darting for Ramirez, who had his shield up to slow it. Lance saw me bolting back up the stairs and jumped at the demon, tackling it and throwing it towards me. I was able to lunge with my long arms as it came at me. Silver sparks lined the blade, a steady hum of power surrounded it, and it hurt the demon like hell. I had caught it in the chest, and it howled in pain as the Holy Sword did its thing. I pulled the blade out and swung at its head; I didn't miss. The demon let out a faint howl before falling over. The body disintegrated into ectoplasm, and that was that.

Carlos lowered his shield. "Harry? Is that a Holy Sword?" he asked, breathless and shocked. Lance eyed the blade warily.

"I'm starting a collection," I answered, and went to see Molly. Mouse moved from where he was, tail wagging in happy confirmation that he'd done his job. Knowing Mouse would have kept her safe anyway, I still checked. Molly's head peeked out from the duster, and her entire face turned into relief as she saw me, Lance, and Carlos standing there. "How you doing, grasshopper?" I asked.

"Scared," she admitted. The kid had a right to be. Those warlocks had shown up, likely to take me out. When I hadn't been here, they had gone after the next best thing.

"We should get you home, and we need to do something about the warlocks strewn around," I muttered. My apartment wouldn't do as a stronghold for a while. I helped her to her feet, and Molly gestured the duster to me. I let her hold onto it. Mouse thumped his tail into me and went to see Carlos, always happy to see a new face.

"I will dispose of the dead humans," Lance said. "Human authorities do not search the Nevernever, so I will put them there." That was a good idea; why didn't I ever think about that. He turned around, and slung one over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Carlos and Molly went to wait outside. I glanced at _Ammoraichius _in my hand before flicking it clean and sheathing it. Sanya was on triple-overtime; I needed to find new owners for the blades. I headed back down to put it away.

"What happened, Harry?!" Bob shouted at me. "There was a lot of noise up there! Everyone okay?"

"Some of the warlocks tried to come after me, and since I wasn't here went for Molly," I answered. "We got them. Lance is tossing their bodies into the Nevernever to rot."

"Wow. These guys must not like you," Bob suggested. "Wait, you came down here for _that_?"

"They summoned a demon," I explained, putting the sword away again. "We're going to take Molly back to her folks. In the meantime, I want you to look at this," I ordered, drawing a symbol I had seen on warlock's robes.

"Hang on," he said, and thought for a second. "They're a cult called the Waiting Disciples. They worship Outsiders."

"There are people who do that?" I asked. I was reminded of devoted worshipper. "One was worshipping Lance earlier, but just now they were shouting to kill him. And he doesn't have a clue why."

"Could be they serve one specific Outsider. After all, how many of them can you name? I can't."

"So why would they be causing trouble in Chicago, other than in the name of some Outsider?" I asked.

Bob whistled as he thought; I would never tell him to his face, but it looked funny to see a skull whistle. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Thanks Bob. Hold down the fort while I'm gone," I said, heading up the stairs.

"You never take me with you."

"Remember last time?"

"Shut up, Harry," Bob called after me as I shut the hatch. I grabbed my revolver with my staff and blasting rod, put what I could and some of Mac's beer in a backpack, and then headed out, calling Mouse after me. Ramirez, Molly, and Lance—human again—were waiting outside. I had to be impressed; Lance had disposed of the warlocks, and no one would be the wiser. Carlos frowned as I brought Mouse out on his leash; his car was going to be stressed. We climbed in, Molly in front, and Mouse on Lance and my lap. The car took off maybe a little slower than usual.

Molly told him the way to her house, and I held my breath as Mouse panted. At least he wasn't swinging his tail. The drive to Michael's house couldn't have been longer. When we finally got there, I opened my door the fastest. Mouse bounded back out of the car, glad to be out. We piled back out of the car, and as I walked up to the door, Michael opened the door. He might not be the Fist of God anymore, but his timing was still impeccable. "Hello Harry," he greeted.

"Hey Michael. We have trouble," I told him. Molly and Lance came up behind me, leaving Mouse holding the leash.

"I know," he said.

I blinked. "You do? How?"

"You showed up at my house with another Warden and Mouse," Michael explained. Mouse heard his name called and went to greet Michael, who scratched his ears. We all went inside, and while Molly got to see her siblings and Charity was introduced to Carlos, I filled Michael in.

"I should take my family to Saint Mary's," Michael decided. "If these sorcerers are so desperate to attack you in broad daylight, then I should move my family in case they look for your friends. And I will be coming to help you." One more ally in my book. Ramirez and Lance were definitely powerful, especially the scion, but Michael had a different type of power to contend with. I think this might be the first time I had a somewhat favorable position.

The phone rang, and Charity answered it. She handed it to me with a wary look. "It's for you," she said. I accepted with confusion. I didn't think anyone knew their number from me, except possibly Murphy. Not even Bill—William knew it.

"Harry Hotline," I greeted.

"Hi Mister Dresden," a girl's voice replied to mine. I sat up straight and dropped the joking attitude, alertness trying to override my exhaustion. The others watched me and couldn't have missed my change in demeanor.

"Hey Ivy. How'd you know where I was?" I asked. I mentally slapped myself as soon as I asked the question. She was the Archive; the proper question was how didn't she know.

"I heard about a disturbance outside your apartment, and guessed that you were at the Carpenter's or Murphy's. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured. "Why are you calling?"

"Kincaid left."

"Oh."

"He's been hired to kill you," Ivy explained. My blood froze in its veins, and my evaluation of the sides rose high in the cult's favor. Kincaid was something not human, and he was a killer. He was damned good one too, and if he was going to kill someone, he was going to kill someone. And now I was at the top of his hit list. Thank heavens that Ivy called.

"Does he know you're telling me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. I felt paranoia creeping in. He could be watching me with that long distance rifle right now.

"Yes, he asked me to. He doesn't want to offend his professionalism by telling you himself, so I said I would. He said he doesn't want to kill you yet."

"That's a relief," I muttered, unsure of whether to be happy or not Kincaid didn't want to murder me just yet.

"He said he has to make special preparations, so he should arrive in Chicago in about three days," Ivy explained. "Did you know that if his client is killed, Kincaid really doesn't see the point in fulfilling a contract?"

A glimmer of hope. "So if I off the cultist who hired him, I'm off the hook?"

"Mister Dresden," Ivy said in that ridiculously innocent voice of a child. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I get it. What if I can't stop them in three days?"

"Can I have your kitty?"

My blood chilled again, and I managed a weak yes into the phone. Ivy was delighted. "I hope you don't die, Mister Dresden; you're a good friend," she said, and then said farewell. I said bye and hung up.

"What is it, Harry?" Michael asked.

"I've got a bounty on my head so big every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be hunting me," I explained. Ramirez got the reference.

*****

When we arrived at Saint Mary's Cathedral, Father Forthill greeted us with his usual charm and delighted expression. His usual charm included food, and my tired body was craving the sandwiches. I had devoured seven when I said, "Father, almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian."

His eyes twinkled. "Acts 26:28. Will you accept Christ if I add milk to your meal?"

"Baptize me," I pleaded, spreading my arms. He didn't, but he still pulled out a gallon of milk. I could hear Carpenter kids running around in a bout of energy, and Michael's footsteps as he chased after them asking them to be reverent. Lance was reading the Bible, curious. Ramirez was trying to impress Charity with his charm, and it wasn't working so well. Molly, surprisingly, was sitting next to Lance explain verses he didn't understand. Mouse was lying with toddler Harry, who was happily patting Mouse's side. There was a steady beat of Mouse's tail against the floor.

"So what new adventures have you come upon now, Harry?" Forthill asked.

"Warlocks and Outsider scions," I said, pointing at Lance. Father Forthill was unfamiliar with the term Outsider, so I clarified. "He's half demon." The priest did a double take and stared at Lance more intently, as if he could see the demonic personality in him. I already had, and it made me glad he tried to stay with his human side. Maybe Molly could help him with that.

There was a knock at the chapel door, and Forthill went to answer it. I heard the door open, and then a gun cock and someone shout, "Move and you die, father." The pitter patter of children's feet stopped, and Mouse growled. I grabbed my blasting rod and went to help, hoping it wasn't Kincaid. It wasn't.

It was four armed thugs, holding machine guns like they knew what they were doing. "Stay there, wizard," one of them warned, pointing his gun at me. I complied. I didn't have enough energy to move. "Everyone stay in the kitchen!" they ordered. That left Ramirez and Lance in there, and here I was with a gun pointed at my head. There was the movement of children's feet joining Charity and Molly in the kitchen. Michael was still out and about.

"Come out where we can see you, swordsman! Or the priest gets it!" a thug yelled. Michael obeyed, not wishing any harm to Forthill. He stepped out from behind a wall, bat in hands. He dropped it upon request and kicked it away. I dropped my blasting rod as well. They walked us back towards the priest's office, and two of them held us in place as another went for an ancient wooden box. Damn; they were after the Denarian coins.

I traded glances with Michael; he had recognized the danger as well. As far as I knew, only Lasciel was there, but that was trouble enough. I started summoning power; Kincaid was going to punch my number anyway. A shotgun blast sounded, and I nearly flinched. The two men guarding us went down as the spray of pellets managed to hit both of them. Thomas was already loading another round. The third gunman went to shoot us as the fourth ran off carrying the box. I threw my power into the third with a rushed, "Forzare!"

Wind took the gunman and flung him back as Thomas hit him in midair. The fourth was struck across the chest by an unveiled Lance, whose hit probably knocked the man unconscious. The box fell open and the coin spilled out. Nearly everyone in the room froze, not daring to touch the coin.

Nearly everyone. Lance frowned at it. "What is it?" he asked, and reached to pick it up.

Thomas, Michael, Forthill and I all rushed at him, screaming, "STOP!" but not quickly enough. Lance's fingers wrapped around the coin, and his eyes widened as he sensed the fallen angel entering his mind. Fingers curled around the coin in a death grip he started howling and began to thrash.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Outsiders know how to thrash. I learned this as we all ran at him, half in a sense to calm him from destroying something and half to get the coin back somehow. Forthill ran to get a holy cloth, and the three of us were left to stop a raging scion. Within seconds Lance was already in his true form, right when I reached him. His wing hit me and flung me onto my back. Michael ducked beneath his wing and nearly got crushed by his foot as Lance threw himself around.

Thomas had more speed and strength than two measly humans, and threw himself onto Lance's back, trying to rein his wings in. It was like watching a guy try to pull trucks that were driving away from him; the guy gets ripped in half. Thomas was close to having his arms yanked off. Meanwhile, Lance continued to howl and thrash, presumably trying to get the fallen angel back out of his head. Power was encircling him like he was a Faerie Queen.

Suddenly Lance's arms and wings tucked in, and my head turned to see Carlos facing Lance with a hand held out. He was holding hands with Molly, which meant he was using her power as well. They both showed the strain of trying to hold a super strong being. I remembered the binding Elaine had used on me twice: once to actually enthrall me, the other to save my life. I cast about in my head for the spell, and found it. With a small strain of power, I encased Lance in a shell, stopping him from thrashing around.

For a moment he looked ready to break the spell, but his senses came to enough to remember where he was and that swinging wildly around was a bad idea. He restrained himself. Seeing some spark of understanding and reasoning in him, I released the cocoon. He fell to his knees, and power continued to surge around him. I wondered if he would be successful in destroying Lasciel, much less removing her from his brain. From the look of strain on his face, maybe not after all.

"Let me be," he panted. Slowly, I went to join my brother as he left the chapel. I didn't see what the others did. Thomas stopped fifteen feet outside the door to face me, sawed-off shotgun resting on his shoulder.

"Hey," I said, coming to a halt. My last conversation with my vampire half-brother hadn't been family-knitting.

"Hey," he answered back. He was dressed in sandals, khaki shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned with a white t-shirt underneath. Killing thugs in styles, I guess.

There was a moment of silence. "Thanks," I managed.

"Don't mention it. Harry, you're still my brother," Thomas said with a shrug. "Family members just don't always see eye to eye."

I remembered when I had first found out Molly had magical potential; her and Charity at each other's throats; Michael's soft requests that the contention stop wrecking the household. Family members might not always see eye to eye, but disputes can tear families apart too. I didn't want to further lose my only brother. "Are you going to stay?" I asked.

To my disappointment, he shook his head. "I'm flying out to New York for a while. Came to tell you."

"Glad you brought your boom stick."

"See you later, Harry," Thomas bid, and got into his car and drove away. It reminded me of the stake in my heart—no pun intended—when it came to my brother. I was hoping time would bring him back to his senses, but until then I felt kind of lonely and at fault. But, he had mentioned meeting again later. Maybe we could find that brotherly love we had not too long ago. I left it at the moment and went back inside.

Somehow, Michael and Father Forthill had managed to help move Lance to a cot, where he was still twisting and now muttering. He was out for the count. I walked back into the kitchen, where Ramirez had magically held the surviving man to a chair. The Carpenter children had been ushered out of the room by Molly and Charity. I swore when I got a good look at the guy, and Michael cast me an admonishing look. "Sorry," I apologized. "It's just this guy is another henchman."

Michael didn't swear, but he gave a deep sigh. Ramirez gave me a look. I explained it for him as I threw water on the thug's face to wake him up. "All henchmen, thugs, and etcetera are the property of Gentleman Johnny Marcone, crime lord supreme."

*****

I had to hand it to Marcone; he trained his thugs well. The man wouldn't open his mouth to save his life, even when I threatened all sorts of things to him. Either Marcone really wanted me dead—which was highly unlikely, considering several factors—or the Waiting Disciples had really paid him off.

Finally, Michael solved the issue when he grabbed hold of the man's jaws and ripped them open. The thug had no tongue and now his jaws were in incredible pain. I was surprised Michael hadn't broken any of the thug's bones. Well, of all the luck, we keep alive the guy who can't talk. I wondered what or who had cut out his tongue, and the circumstances led me to think that it wasn't a gag fallback; Marcone was cold and ruthless, but he wasn't like Nicodemus.

"Father?" I called. "I need a phone." Forthill led me back to his cluttered office, and I gratefully accepted the phone. My first phone call went to Edinburgh; the Council probably wanted to know that our new friend was battling a Denarian in his head. I got through and went through all of the little pass codes that were in my notebook. When I was put on with one of the Senior Council, I found myself talking to Ancient Mai. She didn't like me much. It was understandable, but it didn't make me feel any better.

"Harry Dresden?" she answered. "What do you want?"

"Just calling to report some trouble. You know me."

She wasn't amused. "What is it, Dresden?" she snapped.

"Well, I've identified the warlocks in Chicago as members of the cult Waiting Disciples. Do you know anything about them?" I asked. There was a long pause, and I could hear muffled voices in the background.

"We'll look into it, Dresden. If you have anything else, hurry up. I'm leaving in a few hours to head to China."

"They've involved the White Court. The cult sacrificed children to power themselves enough to steal thirteen servants of the White Court. So I've been asked as the representative Warden to investigate. Just thought you wanted to know that they're expecting the White Council to clean up the mess."

"Which you will, Dresden. Has Ramirez arrived yet?"

"Yeah."

"Good. He's going to temporarily take your position while you bring the scion to meet the Senior Council. When can you be here?"

"There's uh, a hiccup."

I could nearly see her eyes flare up with impatience and annoyance. Ancient Mai didn't like plans to fall apart or be changed because of hiccups. I usually tended to be one of those hiccups. Somewhere, the members of the Senior Council who didn't view me in a nice light had to have a dartboard with my picture on it. "A hiccup, Dresden. What kind of a hiccup?"

"A 'he accidentally picked up a Denarian coin' hiccup."

"WHAT?" she shouted into the phone. A large amount of static stopped me from answering me right away. By rights, the Denarians were on the Accords as well. They weren't anybody's ally.

"Thugs showed up to steal the coin. It fell onto the ground, and he picked it up to see what it was. He's slugging it out in his mind right now. So can I have a delayed meeting stamp on my hand?" I asked. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to deliver bad news with a punch line, as there was another minute where I waited for the static to fade away.

Ancient Mai spoke again, calm holding back what had to be a horde of curses. "Continue to hunt down these Waiting Disciples, Dresden, and inform us when Lance is able to visit. We will research what we can for you." She hung up without saying goodbye or giving me a chance to speak. The dartboard was about to be heavily used. I sighed and dialed a second number.

William picked up the phone; he sounded out of breath and I could hear Georgia laughing the back ground. I coughed into the phone. "Hey William," I greeted. "Should I uh, call back?"

His tone was of the embarrassed kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "No, uh, what did you need Harry?" When he spoke my name, Georgia went dead silent. Yep, caught; it just wasn't the cookie jar.

"I wanted to warn you that there's a cult of warlocks in town. They don't play nice. If you run into any of them, could you tell me? I'm at a loss for what they're up to," I explained.

"Yeah no problem Harry. Bye," he said hurriedly, and I had a sense that something was about to continue. I tried not to think about it. William might not be a kid anymore, but how many guys want to think about what their friends during…personal time. I dialed a third and final number.

My relationship with Marcone is more complicated than a woman's feelings. With what I knew, I couldn't bring myself to hate him, even though I wasn't fond of his career choice. I did respect him; he was supernatural in his own right. How many people can throw knives with deadly accuracy hanging upside down by their foot? I waited for the phone to ring, and it was his Amazonian 'consultant' who answered. "Hello?" Ms. Gard asked.

"Hey honey," I drawled, "what we gonna do bout that gator outside?" She had no comment for me, and I imagined her angry glare as well. There's just no love for humor anymore. Don't become a comedian unless you know someone.

"Mister Dresden," Gard said, using clipped tones. She was always pissed at me for something; it was usually my mouth. "Mister Marcone requested to speak to you when you called." He knew I was going to call; somehow I was both surprised and yet not. "Please hold," she requested, a bit more vehemently than normal, and I heard the phone being passed.

I recognized the calm cool voice that answered the phone. "Ah, Mister Dresden, it's good to speak to you. I have to ask of you to stop irritating my staff; you have a habit to anger my consultant every time we meet."

"I'm going for Big Mouth of the Year for a record five times in a row," I explained.

"I'm sure you have won it. Judging by the fact you are calling me, you have located my missing personnel?" he asked. So he wasn't behind the attempt, and he knew that it would've inevitably involved me. The man is a genius in his own right, and it's not all for running the largest underground organization in the world.

"Yeah. They attacked Saint Mary's Cathedral. We got one here alive," I answered.

"Hm."

"They were after the Denarian coin," I added. There was a pause; the Denarians had kidnapped him a while ago, and he hadn't been an honored guest.

"I see," he noted. "Do you know the identity of the living one?" he asked.

"Nope, he has no tongue. That's not in your dental plan, is it? Mine tends to get in the way."

While he probably agreed with that, he didn't comment on it. "I know the man; he had a tongue cancer from chewing. If you like, I can pick him up for discipline." Discipline meant Marcone would kill him and dump him in the river somewhere. I needed to find out where the cult was at so I could wipe them out and find out why they had come to Chicago to cause major mojo trouble.

"While you do that, could you find out about his employers?" I requested.

"The cult that is in town has already attracted a large portion of my attention, Mister Dresden," Marcone assured. "Do not worry, Mister Dresden; I intend to see them removed from my territory. In the meantime, a source has informed me that there is a warehouse near Lake Michigan that was recently rented by a large party. Sounds interesting, doesn't it?"

"It does," I agreed. He gave me the address and I wrote it down. "Marcone, you're a criminal," I began. He had no comment, probably giving a faint smile. "These guys have come out of nowhere and have interfered with three powers in the Accords; they've stolen White Court servants, taken some of your muscle, and attacked White Council wizards. If you were one of them, what might you be doing with this?"

"It sounds like a setup, Mister Dresden, if you have conveyed all the facts to me correctly," Marcone answered. "To put it in perspective, they are getting ready to rob a bank while causing a distraction on the other side of the street to draw the attention of the police."

"And I'm the cop," I concluded.

"No, Mister Dresden. _We_ are the witnesses that have to be silenced so that the police are not properly informed," Marcone corrected. "Good luck." He hung up. I huffed another sigh. In one corner, a cult with an unknown agenda with intent to kill me and everyone else who might discover them, using every method including the hiring of a profession hitman. In the other corner, two wizards, a former Knight, an apprentice, a crime lord, and an Outsider scion who was experiencing a psychologist's nightmare case. Lots of targets, but it only takes a bullet to remove one.

I left the office and came back to the kitchen. Ramirez was entertaining some of the Carpenter children with wild tales of faeries and monsters. If only it was that easy. "Suit up Carlos," I told him. "We're going exploring. Michael, I need you and Molly too. Where is Molly?"

Michael quietly and calmly pointed back through the wall. She was with Lance, probably sitting right next to where he was. I debated in my mind, and then sighed. "Fine, she can stay. Mouse," I said, looking at the dog, who looked up hopefully at me. "It was he—heck on the way here. Have fun with the kids." He started to give me a sad face, but he brightened quickly enough and went to chase the children. Michael called quietly for them to be more reverent. Charity said it much louder.

Carlos, Michael and I headed out to Michael's car this time, and I gave Michael the directions. We got in and drove.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Michael pulled to a stop outside of the warehouse about half an hour later; traffic had been terrible. As I got out, wearing my duster despite the heat, I readied myself for a fight and made sure my revolver was loaded. I didn't have my Warden's cloak with me, but Ramirez did. He had thrown it back on one side to reveal his revolver at his hip, like he was some sort of wizard cowboy. As he cocked a grin at me, I'm sure that was how he thought of himself. As long he could back it up.

Compared to Ramirez and me, Michael was sorely outweighed. We had magic and guns, and Ramirez had his Warden's sword; Michael was only carrying his Louisville Slugger. Although if you were technical about it, he had a set of armor stronger than my duster; just because Michael had surrendered the sword didn't mean that the Almighty was less likely to reward him for his intense faith. I could still recall when he'd said a prayer once for our protection, and the hum of power that had surrounded us. I wondered if enemies that touched him would still combust if he was no longer a Knight. It had been pretty cool.

Since Michael didn't have any long range capability at the moment, he offered to take point. Ramirez and I split back between us. I had my blasting rod in one hand and staff in the other; Ramirez had his Warden's sword and staff, while his revolver was still visible. "Hey Michael," I whispered. "Remind me to stop by my place after this; I'm going to get you my sword cane."

He gave me a friendly, somewhat chiding smile. "Harry," he said back. "Do you really think I don't have a sword at home if I needed one?" I bit my tongue and pretended to act as though I knew that. Carlos snickered. Michael turned back around and he paused at the warehouse door. We moved to either side of it, and Michael peeked inside one, ever so slightly moving the door. He stared for what seemed forever, then lowered his bat and swung open the door without fear. The warehouse was deserted.

They must have known we were coming. Damn.

Ramirez sighed and lowered his sword as he stepped inside. I examined the area. There was a large circle with lots of runes drawn in, indicating where the White Court servants must have been. The shelves were missing from the warehouse, and in the back were two rooms. Ramirez examined the circle as Michael and I went deeper in towards the two rooms. I recognized the setup of one room and stopped. Michael looked at me. "That room has cameras. I'll wait for you to see," I explained.

With a nod Michael kept going and walked into the security room. He was only in five minutes before he came back out. "There was a screen where a camera was positioned," Michael explained. "It was place across the street from your apartment, Harry." I frowned; things like that usually didn't miss my attention. Something clicked in my head, and my staff heated a little. They had known then that I wasn't home when they attacked; they had been after Molly after all.

I walked towards the second room. It was empty, but it reeked of black magic. As Carlos came up behind me, he twitched his nose in disgust. There wasn't any blood in the room, but the stench of black magic was there, and it was fresh. It couldn't have been done any later than this morning. "What are they doing?" Carlos asked. I shrugged; they had gotten away again. Carlos glanced back over his shoulder. "Whatever they're up to, we got in the way. That circle is incomplete back there. Looks like a summoning circle."

"They're a cult that worships Outsiders, probably a specific one. Maybe they're trying to summon him to do something," I suggested. "Can't be much more than murder." My murder, to be specific. They were covering all the bases; hiring Kincaid, attempting to summon an Outsider, coming after me directly, going after friends, and even trying to steal a Blackened coin. Maybe it wasn't any more difficult than they wanted me dead; plenty of people would hire for that or do it themselves.

It was both a comforting and frightening prospect. Comforting in the fact that I didn't need to go to the place to find the enemy to make a plan to discover the item to interfere with the ritual to save the world, but just find and kill them first. It was cut and dry, something I didn't get much of a chance to deal with. However, it was also frightening. I had never been the direct target, and these guys were willing to go the extra mile to take me out. I needed someone else to examine this. I needed Bob.

"We should head back to my place," I said. "I need to check something." Neither Michael nor Ramirez had any complaint. We got back to Michael's car and started to head back to my apartment. I thought as we drove, trying to find a loophole where the cult had messed up. I had an idea, but for it I needed the White Court or Murphy; they had bought the warehouse, which meant that someone had to have purchased it. As we reached my apartment, Michael's radio malfunctioned.

I stepped out of the car, and my wizard senses warned me in time to duck. A shotgun blast rocketed over the top of Michael's car, making my ears ring. Before Michael or Ramirez or I could react, there was the distinct sound of a 9mm going off twice. I peeked back over the car to see the homeless man who had been sitting across from my house two nights ago lying in a forming pool of blood. Somewhat down the street was a police car with Detective Greene standing by his door, gun in hand. Talk about irony; the man who hated my guts saved my ass.

The officer put his gun away after confirming that the coast was clear, and then he walked right toward us. Discreetly, Ramirez took my revolver and hid it and his. He didn't have a license either. "Dresden," Greene stated. It was neither a greeting nor a statement; it just was. "It's not every day someone shoots a gun at you."

I kept my smart in check. "No, not really," I admitted. He stared at me for a moment; I was a terrible liar again after Lash had destroyed herself. But he accepted it; it was the truth for the most part. He looked over me and my friends.

"You have a sword, sir," Greene informed Ramirez.

"It's hard to Larp without one, sir," Ramirez answered back. I nearly laughed at the answer.

"Larp?" Greene repeated. He had never heard the term.

"Larp, Greene. Live action role playing. Don't tell me you've never tried," I said. He gave me a quick glare. Perhaps one of the reasons I talk so much is because it covers the face I can't lie. "I'm a wizard. He's a battle wizard. And he's a Holy Knight."

Not so much as a smile crossed Michael's face, but I knew that he had to be laughing on the inside. Greened turned back to Michael. "A holy knight armed with a baseball bat," Greene examined. "Where's your sword?"

"He gave it away recently; he just retired from being a Fist of God," I explained. I had to hurry, or else I would start laughing. "So he improvises." Greene stared at us like we were crazy. Then he warned us that he would be watching us and left to file the report on the body. Doubtless he would be back with more cops to deal with the body. He radioed in a squad car and ambulance before leaving. As he drove away, I couldn't help myself anymore.

I let out a loud long laugh, and Ramirez and even Michael joined me. "Harry," Michael said, grinning. "What have I told you about telling the truth?"

I thought hard, and finally gave up. "Hey, it worked," I replied. Ramirez was still laughing, and Michael kept grinning. I went inside to find Bob. Larping. I went into my house and opened the hatch into my lab. "Wake up, Bob, I want your opinion."

The lights in his eyes glowed, and the skull yawned. "Come on, Harry, I was in the middle of my beauty sleep," he complained.

"I think I know what the cult's after, and I want to run it by you," I said. I told him what I knew. For a moment, Bob was quiet in thought.

"Well, it seems logical, except for one reason," Bob said.

"What?"

"These guys seriously don't like you. More than usual. They're using every trick in the book, including hiring Kincaid. Think about it. Kincaid could kill you without a second thought if he was paid, and if someone had hired these guys, wouldn't they want to hire someone a bit less obvious?"

"So you think that getting rid of me protects their real plans."

"Well, you have that tendency to wrenches in plans, especially when that means someone is going to get hurt," Bob noted. "Climatic buildup." I grabbed the claw hammer, and Bob was already talking again before I set it next to the skull. "Well, uh, you said that they had a summoning circle set up, and the Waiting Disciples worship Outsiders, probably a particular one."

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. "They're going to summon the Outsider they worship here, probably on a rampage. And it'll go after me first, seeing as how they're already so desperate to kill me in the first place."

"That might be because of your outstanding record in wrench throwing."

This was going to prove difficult. Not only do I not have any idea where to find this cult, they're at the level of fanatic where they want to summon their leader to the mortal realm. It was incredibly difficult to fight an Outsider. Magic and weapons seemed to slide off them more than water slides. No one really knows why, but even the Senior Council couldn't destroy an Outsider. The Merlin might be able to stop them with a ward, but stopping one is different from destroying one. I had been lucky to survive He Who Walks Behind when I was sixteen. Lash had told me that because of my birthday, I had some sort of power to fight them back. Thinking of Lash reminded me.

"Hey Bob?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"The Order of Blackened Denarius doesn't use mortal magic, right?"

"Well, they're only older than humanity and immortal beings, Harry," Bob joked.

"So an Outsider could be hurt by them," I concluded.

"Well, that's getting into the realm of theory. So far in history, the Denarians have never pissed off the Outsiders, and the Outsiders have never gone after the Denarians. I suppose that a fallen angel could throw power at an Outsider without all of it sliding off, but…I thought you weren't going to take up the coin, though."

"I never will. Lance accidentally picked up Lasciel's coin."

"Seriously? An Outsider in possession of a Blackened Denarius?" Bob repeated. He made a low whistle. "Harry, contending minds aside for the moment, do you realize how bloody powerful he is now?"

"Focus, Bob! This is important!" I shouted, losing patience.

"Fine! Fine. Well, first off Shadow Bringer Of Chaos has the home field. She's in his mind, not hers. And while Lasciel is pretty tough, he might have an edge in two places. He's still part Outsider, so he should have some resistance to magic, and he just might be literally tougher. He's sort of like you, except younger and more naïve. Lasciel probably knows more and can do it subtlety…"

"But he has a bigger punch," I finished. "So what might happen?"

"Well, depends. There are three outcomes. One, they're both under the category of demon; they get along eventually. Two, Lasciel comes out on top, having been force to take him down. Three, he destroys her completely."

"Completely completely?"

"Yes, completely gone. Only twenty-nine Denarians afterward," Bob clarified. I ignored his request to meet my apprentice and thought about Lance and Lasicel. To be honest, if Lasciel survived and Lance did as well, I was kind of curious to meet her. I'd had her shade in my head for over three years before she used the free will I gave her to sacrifice herself. I just had to wonder if the real one was like that, and what she would think about the shadow turning away from Lasciel and dying for me. I had to admit, I kind of missed Lash.

I also started to wonder how much a super powerful Outsider could change the real deal when Ramirez shouted down into my lab. "Hey Harry! Your cop friend's here to see you." I hurried back out of the lab, feeling a change of luck. Murphy was the exact person I needed to investigate the warehouse buyer and give me the only lead I had on the cult.

Murphy was waiting for me in my apartment. Michael was looking around curiously, and Ramirez was actually on his hands and knees, examining my floor. I realized what surprised them; my faerie cleaning service had come while I was gone and fixed my apartment. They'd even done the equivalent of WD-40 to my door. Carlos was examining how clean my floor was. I didn't say anything, but I could feel the grin on my face.

"I heard Greene saved your…butt," Murphy said, after glancing at Michael. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation, but I knew he would turn on a dime and gently rebuke if someone said a curse. Ramirez was smart, and he left to give me and Murphy some privacy. Michael did as well. I have great friends.

"If he hadn't been on duty, I'm pretty sure he would have waited until after I got shot," I told her.

She snorted. "Probably. So there have been unexplained phenomena."

"On or off?"

"Off, at the moment. Greene reported another three corpses at his crime scene, one of them burned to the bone. And there were reports of gunfire and strange lights recently in the neighborhood."

"I like fireworks," I explained.

"What's going on, Harry?" Murphy asked. I gave her the lowdown, from when Lance showed up to when Greene shot the hobo assassin. She listened quietly throughout all of it before speaking. "So some crazies are about to summon a really bad ass demon?"

"Really bad ass. As in, wizards can barely slow them down."

"But you got lucky because of when you were born, so we need to find them before they call the Outsider thing. And your Outsider's out of the game at the moment. What do you need?"

"See who bought this warehouse," I told her, giving the address. "The cult bought it and was going to summon their man there, but we got in the way. If we knew where they were, or at least who, it would be easier to stop them."

"I'll see what I can do," Murphy agreed. "What are you going to do?"

I stood up. "Head back to the cathedral. Lance might be out of commission, but ten bucks says he know about Outsider summoning rituals. He's half one, anyway."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When I arrived back at Saint Mary's, I was surprised by the news that Lance had stopped thrashing and had been resting until just now. I was unsurprised by the news that Molly was sitting next to the cot he lay in. I was surprised that Molly, my rebellious anti-authority apprentice, was explaining the tenets of the Bible and Christianity to him. I pictured in my head an Outsider demon possessed at Sunday school. Something about it was just more wrong than picturing Michael drinking. I doubted my friend had even touched a bottle, let alone had been drunk before; Charity and the Almighty probably wouldn't be too happy if he did.

I found him laying on his back on the cot, covered from neck to toe—back in his human form—the same way little kids were. Molly had her back to me and was trying hard to teach him a principle from the Bible. Considering how she looked at the moment, I wasn't quite sure if he understood the lesson or was wondering why her hair color wasn't like regular humans. I had often wondered that myself, and then reminded myself that I wore a duster and that I had done even worse when I was younger. I decided to make a discreet entrance; it involved coughing heavily.

Molly spun around, not entirely off guard. She must have sensed me coming in. I wasn't a small magical presence, despite Lance two feet from her. "Can you give me some time with him alone, grasshopper?" I asked. She understood it was more a formality than a request, and looked ready to grumble as she left. She probably would when she was out of earshot. I took her seat after shutting the door behind her. Lance watched me with curious eyes.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I feel more exhausted, but my energy is returning," Lance answered. He cocked his head. "Molly Carpenter is very…unusual? She will repeat herself sometimes when I ask her something." Shut up and stop making me feel bad. It's not my fault you're a pretty boy and I'm not. I fought against saying that. I didn't want my apprentice wanting to date an Outsider scion, no matter how polite. He still might have a fallen angel in his head, and I remembered his amused expression when he incinerated someone.

"I had a question for you, about other Outsiders. The cult that's been attacking us might be trying to summon an Outsider. I thought you might be able to guess which one."

"I suppose I can do that. I know several rituals, and it wouldn't be too hard to generalize," he agreed. I picked up a paper and pencil next to his cot and drew the unfinished circle from memory as best as I could. He stared at it for a second, in deep intent. I recognized the expression on his face. He was confused. "That is not part of any ritual I know for any of my kin. It looks more like a regular summoning circle. That could be for any Outsider, I suppose."

Well, that didn't help much. I sighed and put the paper down. "Do you believe in God?" Lance asked. That was new. How much had Molly taught him already?

"Sort of. I acknowledge him, but I'm not in any organized religion," I answered. "Why?"

"God is good," Lance said bluntly, although the word good sounded foreign coming off him. It was a concept he had never thought about before, and that scared me. "It's good to follow laws and rules, right? Because if you believe in something good, then you do good?"

"That's more or less right. Are you saying I should go to church more often?" I asked. I'm asking a demon whether or not I should go to church more often. The delicious irony.

Lance looked confused with the challenge, unsure of what to think of it. Molly hadn't gotten to organized religion. "Um, no. Your apprentice says that you should be good, because good is, good. But you don't always do good, and is that…bad?"

"Huh? What are you talking about? I'm always on the good guy side," I answered.

"But you don't always do good. Doing good means being nice and following rules and laws. You don't follow one of your wizarding laws in the White Council. You kill people," Lance pointed out. I felt a huge guilt trip coming, and I tried to explain to him that killing in self-defense is allowable. He shook his head and eyed me again, not making eye contact. "You killed the man in anger at the tunnel, by the bodies of the human girls. That was not self-defense. You killed him."

I opened my mouth to argue, but damn, he was right. I _had_ killed, and not just to save my own skin. I remembered vividly in my head the power that had been coursing through me when I realized one of the cultists were in there. I hadn't any notion in my head, however much I try to deny it now, on protecting myself. I had wanted to kill him. I had, and it felt good. It had felt good to crush him beneath my power, and I thought of all the other cultists who had died by my hand. It was a wonder that_ Ammoraichius_ had allowed me to touch it.

Even now, years and years after I had killed my mentor, Justin DuMorne, I still had wanted to kill someone. The Senior Council was right; I could very well be a ticking time bomb, even now. I had killed a warlock, which by a technicality wasn't breaking the First Law, but I'd all but done it in my own mind. Guilt was definitely making an appearance now. Meanwhile, Lance was just watching me as I put my head in my hands. I wished I could veil myself, or my emotions. I felt absolutely terrible, and no amount of blaming it on the demon lying next to me would make me feel better. Murphy had noticed that before Lash had sacrificed herself, I had been having anger issues. Apparently that hadn't gone away with Lash. _I _was dangerous. No wonder Mab wanted me.

My mind clicked on something again in the middle of my guilt. It went on the back burner for now, waiting to creep on me again later. I examined Lance. There was no green or orange in his eyes, which had been sure signs of Denarians before. "Hey Lance? What happened to the coin and the fallen angel?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, which resembled more of a yawn. "I managed to subdue the one known as Lasciel. She is under my command," he assured. I became instantly wary. Thinking you had someone like a Denarian under your thumb is like jumping a gorilla's back and shouting I win. The gorilla still could tear you apart like toilet paper.

"You sure about that? She's millennia old, and she might just be faking."

"I am certain, Warden Harry Dresden," he said politely. "It was not easy by any degree. I thought that I might accomplish victory at the cost of my life, but I was able to survive at the last second. I am recovering my strength now."

"Who says she isn't doing the same thing?" I challenged. He gave me a smile. I think it might have been trying to be reassuring. It was happy, but bland in terms of expression.

"I forced her to swear by her own power not to subvert my judgment in any way or form. She is doubtless recovering her strength, but she will not use it against me," Lance said. I could have been blown over by a breeze. He had actually managed to beat a Denarian right out in strength. It had to be his Outsider heritage; it probably made some of her power slide right off of him. And he had been able to coerce an oath of allegiance to himself from her. No wonder he wanted to recover strength. I can only imagine what a light show that would have been, metaphysically speaking.

"She actually wishes to talk to you, Harry Dresden," Lance noted. "I can impose an illusion of my making on the one she creates, allowing you to see and hear her. Do you wish to speak to her?" He was giving me the choice. There was no way he was strong enough to do that. I was denying it, even though I had felt how much power he had used when entering Chicago, and when destroying the skin walker. It just seemed too surreal. I nodded, and he muttered to himself. I caught, "You may appear."

Lasciel appeared sitting in a chair at the foot of his cot, and I was strongly reminded of the last time Lash had ever appeared to me, in the Deeps. The real Lasciel's eyes were just as sunken, she held herself with little dignity or poise, her face was hallow, and her eyes were reddened as she wiped a hand across them, wiping away any telling tear. But it didn't end there. She was dressed in a toga much like Lash had, and it revealed bruises and cuts everywhere across her body. There was barely any healthy skin on her, and I could see in her face that she was utterly broken. Lance hadn't just defeated Lasciel. Once he had, he had pounded her into tears. Probably with as much remorse as he had incinerated the warlock.

I knew a little of what Lasciel was like, thanks to Lash. And even though my senses were on alert, telling me I was about to talk to someone as dangerous as the Faerie Queen of Winter, I couldn't help but feel a little pity for her. Lasciel, if she was remotely like Lash before free will, was lonely and did feel saddened at times. Then, Lance had utterly destroyed her pride in being unstoppable, and then threw her around some more to ensure loyalty. I had taken a few humble trips, but probably nothing like she had.

"Hello, Lasciel," I whispered quietly.

She made eye contact with me, unafraid of a soul gaze happening. I wonder how often in her history she had cried. Then I reminded myself to stay cautious. "Harry Dresden. It's a pleasure to meet you." Her tone was trembling. I could see Lance out of the corner of my eye, keeping a hard look on Lasciel's form. She was very conscious of it, too.

"I think you want to ask me something," I said.

"Yes. Where is my shadow?" she asked. Aha, so Lash had been an actual part of Lasciel after all. Lasciel probably hadn't lost any power from it, but she had still lost part of herself.

"She sacrificed herself to save me," I explained. "She's not there anymore."

The fallen angel did look even more pitiful upon hearing that. "I suppose I should be angry that you subverted part of me," she whispered. Lance's glare hardened further, and Lasciel actually flinched like she'd been hit. She probably had, and she added quickly, trembling more. "But I am grateful that at least my shadow was able to enjoy freedom for a time." Lasciel did get lonely, trapped in a coin, after all. Hell, I would.

"Anything else?" I asked. I suddenly realized that Lasciel might know about the Waiting Disciples. It was a long shot, but we had nothing else to go on. However, when Lasciel shook her head no to answer my question, that was it.

"That is enough for now," Lance ordered harshly. It really threw his demonic side into perspective. I realized that he was one of the more powerful Outsiders, which meant he was used to controlling others and being in charge. Definitely not a good person for Molly to be into.

Lasciel nodded quickly and vanished with a muttered, "As you wish, my host." I turned back to Lance, whose expression became polite and amiable again. Despite the fact Lasciel was a fallen angel and probably did deserve what had happened, I still felt angry. I just don't like seeing women hurt. It's going to get me killed.

"Why do you treat her so harshly?" I asked. I just had to know if he really was demonic, or if his human side had more hold than previously shown.

"She was just recently my enemy. I do not trust her. Would you trust her?" he asked politely. Well, he had me there. I wouldn't trust her any farther than I could throw her. And you can't throw illusions.

I also thought about what Molly had been recently teaching him. "Yeah, but you said you've sworn her to you under her own power. That's big. She literally can't control you. And if you intend to keep her in your head, you could learn to get along. Be nice. That's the good thing to do."

Lance seemed to have never considered that before. He kept things in two columns: people he could trust, and didn't. I was lucky to be in the trust column so far. "So, being nice? Like redeeming her?" he asked.

"I don't know if you can do that," I admitted, mentally noting that Outsiders don't have any room to redeem people, "but you could try."

"And Molly said as long as you try your best to do the right thing, no matter what, that's good," he finished. I was glad Molly had said the right thing, not just do your best. She knew that the hard way. I was also curious as to why he was so interested to learn from her. It was probably because she was always nearby, and so he had a readily available human to ask questions. Either way, I still had no answer on what to do about the cult.

Then Ramirez came into the room. "Hey Harry, just got a call from the Senior Council. They want to know when they can meet Shadow dude and that they have something about the Waiting Disciples to tell you," he said. That was good news.

"Tell them we'll come tomorrow," I said. As he left, I turned back to Lance. "You ready to meet the Senior Council tomorrow?"

"I would like to meet more human manipulators," he admitted. He looked excited about it, but the guilt over my recent actions and memory of his brutal metaphysical beating of a fallen angel reminded me that no matter now naïve he was, Shadow Bringer Of Chaos was dangerous and powerful. He was an Outsider. And if something went wrong tomorrow, I might be the only one who could do more than slow him down.

Fun all around.


End file.
